


Chaperones

by MissDavis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Disney World, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Parentlock, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Unrealistic Disney planning, seriously if you go there in June with no pre-planning you will wait in line much more than they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDavis/pseuds/MissDavis
Summary: Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?""Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [PipMer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PipMer) for beta-reading this for me after I won her in the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Please note that I did not have a Brit-picker when I wrote this, and didn't try to use British spelling or punctuation. 
> 
> I am blown away by the enthusiasm everyone has shown for this story already. Since I know that a lot of you have more Disney experience than I do, I apologize for any mistakes I may make. I am going to pretend that whatever details I got wrong will have changed in the ten years between now and when this fic is set. :)

John should've known something was up as soon as Rosie walked through the door after school. She was only eleven, but for the last year or so she'd been behaving more like a teenager: acting excited around her friends was permissible, but sharing that enthusiasm with him was not. But today as soon as she got home she grabbed him by the hand and pulled until he followed her into the kitchen.

Sherlock was sitting at the small table in the corner, hunched over his microscope. All of his lab equipment had been relegated to the smaller space nearly a decade ago, as a condition of John and Rosie moving into the flat. John tried to keep the bigger table clear for meals, though Rosie conspired to keep that one cluttered as well; now she dumped the contents of her school bag across it. At least her mess tended to be less toxic than Sherlock's experiments.

She retrieved a sparkly purple folder from the pile and shuffled through the papers in it. John caught her empty water bottle before it rolled off the table and set it in the sink to be washed for tomorrow. "What's got you so excited?" he asked.

"It's the class trip, Dad!" She pulled out a thick packet of bright yellow papers that had been stapled together, brandishing it in the air in front of him. "We're going to Disney World!"

"Disney World?" John wrinkled his brow. Not only was that thousands of miles away and probably incredibly expensive, Rosie had outgrown her Disney princess stage about five years ago. 

"Yes! Isn't it brilliant? We're going to go to Florida where it's always warm and sunny!" She bounced into the one of the chairs, sending a cascade of completed schoolwork to the floor as she bumped against the table. 

Sherlock slipped off his stool and bent to pick up the papers. He was good about cleaning up after her, even if he still left his own junk scattered everywhere.

John pulled out a chair and sat down across from Rosie. "Since when do schools go to Florida for a class trip? When I was in Year Six, the only trip we took was to the zoo."

"Yes, John," Sherlock said, "but air travel hadn't been invented yet when you were in school and it would've taken too long to travel to Florida by boat." 

"Very funny."

"Can I go, Dad? I know it's a lot of money, but we're doing fundraising and it's not until June."

"Ugh, Florida in June," John said, though he'd never actually been to Florida. "Sounds horribly hot. Let me see." He pulled the packet of papers across the table and flipped to the last page, looking for the cost. It was a lot of money, but he could afford it, and though he tried to teach Rosie to be thrifty he also didn't like to deny her anything she really wanted. "Hmm. You can do some of the fundraising, and then you'll need to help out more with the chores around here to earn the rest of the money."

"All right! I'll start cooking dinner for us all." She'd inherited Mary's kitchen skills, thankfully, and already did a better job than Sherlock at planning meals that included more than just food that came in a can.

"Sounds good," John said, and pushed the packet back toward her. He would read all the details later.

"And they need chaperones. Mrs. Hicks says if they don't get enough parent volunteers, they won't be able to go." She widened those bright blue eyes of hers and blinked at him.

"Oh, no. No way. I am not travelling internationally with a bunch of eleven-year-olds, especially not to Disney World. No, thank you."

"Dad, please? Two years ago the trip got cancelled because they didn't have enough chaperones and they just went to Dublin instead."

"Dublin is very nice, especially in June. I'll go with you to Dublin."

"Da-ad!" Now that sounded more like the Rosie he was used to lately, though he did feel bad about her trip being in danger of cancellation. Not enough to be a chaperone for it, though. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie. You can definitely go, but I'm just not—"

"I'll go," Sherlock said. He dropped the papers that had spilled on the floor and picked up the ones about the trip. "Doesn't need to be a legal guardian, does it?"

"You will? Really?" Rosie tipped back in her chair to grin up at Sherlock, who put a hand on her shoulder so she wouldn't fall over. "You would be way more fun than Dad!"

"Are you kidding me?" John said. "You're going to fly 4000 miles on a plane full of eleven-year-olds and then walk around Disney World with them and a bunch of their mums? You, Sherlock Holmes, internationally-known consulting detective and curmudgeon?"

"Sorry, what? Did you just call me a curmudgeon? I am not a curmudgeon. If anything, you're the curmudgeon."

"Yeah, he's right, Dad. You're the curmudgeon."

"You don't even know what that word means, Rosie."

"Yes, I do. 'Get off my lawn. Don't eat biscuits for breakfast'."

John frowned at her. "I—no, wait a minute." They were getting off the subject. "Sherlock. Don't tell her you'll go because I know you won't want to do it when you hear all the details."

"What details? I've been on holiday with her before. We had a lovely time at the beach last summer, and this time we won't have you harping about reapplying sun cream every two hours."

"You'll need to apply it more often than that in Florida."

"I've been to Florida before, John. Unlike you. Did you know that the state of Florida has the eleventh-highest per capita crime rate of all the U.S. states?"

John stared at him. "Disney World with 60 eleven-year-olds, Sherlock. There will be no criminal investigations."

Sherlock shrugged. "That's fine. I like amusement park rides. I'm not the one who gets sick from spinning."

"I love spinning!" Rosie said, and jumped out of her chair to demonstrate.

"See?" Sherlock waved his hand at Rosie as she bumped into the fridge-freezer and then stumbled back to her seat at the table. "The two of us will have a fantastic time."

"Sherlock," John said. "Listen to me. If you chaperone this trip, you will be in charge of a group of children."

"Four of us!" Rosie said. "We get to pick our own groups."

"Rosie, Abby, and Leah. Who else? Not Lindsey, please." Sherlock lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows at Rosie.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Lindsey likes Mason and so does Leah so I'm not friends with Lindsey anymore."

"Good, good. Well, you've got a few months to select your fourth. Would you like us to send you a postcard, John?"

"No, because I know you aren't going to go, so stop encouraging her. Four children that you will be in charge of, plus you will have to share a tiny hotel room with three other parents."

"What?" Sherlock looked to Rosie for confirmation.

She nodded and pointed to the information packet. "Page three. Four adults per room, it says."

Sherlock flipped through the pages so fast he tore the first one away from the staple. "Well, that's just ridiculous. I'll pay for my own private room."

"No, you can't! That'd be weird. I don't know who else will have their fathers going, but you have to stay with them. You can't be the only one by himself."

"Rosie, I—" Sherlock frowned and John knew the struggle he must be going through. He was even worse than John at denying Rosie something she wanted, but the thought of Sherlock rooming with a bunch of strangers for a week was unimaginable. John watched him pick up the papers again and study them, probably looking for a loophole that would allow him to room by himself.

And somehow, he found one. "Ah-ha! It says that adults will be assigned to groups of four per room except in the case of a child with both parents attending as chaperones."

"Yes!" Rosie shouted. "You and Dad can both come and we'll pretend I have two dads!"

John gaped at the two of them. "Rosie. Everyone in your class knows Sherlock and I are not together."

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand at him. "Please. Except for the few girls who have been here, everyone in her class assumes we're a couple. No one will question it."

Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?"

"Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

John stared at him for another moment, then licked his lips. "But I don't want to go to Disney World," he said. Especially not if he had to spend his time there pretending to be Sherlock's partner. Sherlock might think that would be a lark, but John could see so many ways for it to go wrong, particularly if they were around people who knew them. 

"Why not? It will be warm and relaxing, even if you're not interested in rides or...what's the name of that creature they use in their adverts? With the big black ears?"

"Mickey Mouse!" Rosie shouted, laughing. 

"That's a mouse?"

John smiled in spite of himself, enjoying Rosie's delight at telling Sherlock something she thought he didn't know and Sherlock's expression of disbelief. Sherlock's _fake_ expression of disbelief—because Sherlock was an excellent actor, who would have no problem pretending to be part of a couple. John, however.... "I don't think it's a good idea, Rosie. We can't just pretend we're a couple."

"Sure, you can." Rosie reached for a flattened packet of crisps that had fallen out of the mess in her bag. "It's not like you have to kiss or anything. You just need to hold hands."

If only it were as simple as she thought. He sighed. It would not be simple at all, he knew, though it also wasn't fair of him to disappoint her simply so he could avoid being uncomfortable for a few days. He fiddled with the edge of the placemat that was sticking out from beneath Rosie's school papers. He really wasn't a curmudgeon, though he did try to be a good parent. "I don't think we should lie to your whole class, Rosie. Lying's bad."

Rosie rolled her eyes at his words. Great—he was doing a brilliant job at parenting, obviously. "I'm serious," he said. "You shouldn't lie to your friends. And don't open those crisps. It's almost time for dinner."

Rosie turned sideways in her chair to glance up at Sherlock. They shared a look for a moment, then Sherlock dragged the chair from the end of the table to sit down next to her.

"John." Sherlock folded his hands together on the table in front of him. "Please consider doing this. For Rosie. We won't have to lie outright. We'll just put both our names on the form, they'll assign us a room together, and we'll let everyone make whatever assumptions they'd like. Rosie and her friends will get to enjoy themselves, and you and I will both be there to supervise. What could go wrong?"

John slid the packet of trip information closer and peered down at it so he could avoid looking at Sherlock. What could go wrong, indeed? Besides a completely inappropriate reawakening of feelings for Sherlock that he'd buried so long ago that most of the time it didn't even bother him.

The first couple of years after he and Rosie had moved back to Baker Street had been the easiest—he'd still been grieving Mary and exhausted from parenting a toddler, and he hadn't missed having an intimate relationship. Once Rosie had started school and they'd settled into a regular routine, he started thinking about maybe dating again, but he knew he wouldn't be satisfied with any ordinary woman. Or man, for that matter. He liked dangerous, unpredictable people; it was what had drawn him to Mary, and to Sherlock himself. But Sherlock wasn't interested in any sort of romantic entanglement, so John had eventually made peace with the fact that though he and Sherlock loved each other, there would never be anything more to their relationship than a strong, all-encompassing friendship. It was good enough, in its own way. After all, John didn't exactly have a stellar track record when it came to romance, so maybe this way was for the best. But going on a trip like this and having to pretend he and Sherlock really were together could very easily...stir up things. Things that were better left unstirred. 

"Please, Daddy?" Rosie said, and John lifted his eyes from the tabletop to look at her. She'd put down the bag of crisps and clasped her hands in front of her, matching Sherlock's beseeching pose. "Please?"

He knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't say no to her, and a not-insignificant part of him didn't even want to say no. He could do it. He'd gone on holiday with Sherlock and Rosie before—just last summer they'd spent a week in Italy. Of course they'd also brought Mrs. Hudson with them, and rented a villa with three bedrooms. He and Rosie had shared a room. This would be different. "I guess we could," he said. "Though I don't want to make a practice of lying, and I don't think it will be as easy as you two think to fool everyone—"

"Yes, John," Sherlock interrupted. "I know it's been a number of years for you, but surely you remember what dating is like enough to pretend for a few days."

John glared at him. Maybe if he focused solely on Sherlock's obnoxiousness, he'd be able to get through a week in Florida without dwelling on all the years he'd spent wishing they really were something more than friends. 

Sherlock returned his stare for several long moments, then turned to Rosie. "Don't worry," he said. "Your father's already made up his mind. The three of us are going to Disney World."


	2. Chapter 2

John wasn't too surprised that after displaying such initial interest in chaperoning, Sherlock got distracted for the next few months and somehow managed to be involved in none of the planning or preparation for the trip. It wasn't really a problem, until they got on the plane and Sherlock realized they were seated in the economy section, along with the rest of the class. 

"Come on," John said. They were holding up the queue of people trying to board behind them. Not an auspicious start to the holiday. "You've flown economy class before."

"Only when I've been undercover. And never on a nine-hour flight."

John lowered his voice. "Well, you're basically undercover now, so it shouldn't be a problem."

Sherlock scoffed. "Undercover as what? A child wrangler?"

"As Rosie's dad and my partner, remember?" He raised an eyebrow and slipped his hand into Sherlock's.

Sherlock blinked down at their joined hands, then tipped his chin up haughtily. "Fine." He squeezed John's fingers tight before letting go so he could heft his bag into the overhead compartment, then shrugged out of his Belstaff and stuffed that in as well. "So is 'partner' the term I should be using to refer to you?"

Rosie popped up from the aisle seat she had claimed. "Er, no," she said. "You need to call him your husband."

"What? Why?" John asked.

"Because I told all my classmates and Mrs. Hicks that you got married a few months ago and that this trip is the honeymoon you never got to have." She smiled at them and then plopped back down into her seat.

"What?!" John shoved his bag in next to Sherlock's and scooted past Rosie's seat to take the one in the middle of the row. "Why would you do that?"

Rosie shrugged. "Abby says if you're celebrating something like a birthday or getting married, you get a special button when you get to the hotel. And everyone knows my birthday is in January."

"So you told them we got married?"

"Oh, relax." Sherlock stepped over both Rosie's and John's legs to settle into the window seat. "We were already lying. What difference does it make if people think we're married?"

"We agreed that we weren't going to tell any outright lies."

"Sorry," Rosie said. "I forgot."

"You forgot that you aren't supposed to lie?" John frowned as he searched for both ends of his seat belt. "This is not my best parenting moment, you realize. Condoning an elaborate lie."

"Come on, now." Sherlock patted John's thigh. "It's all in good fun. The week will be over before you know it."

John exhaled, reminding himself not to enjoy the feeling of Sherlock's hand on his leg too much, because it was all just an act, a fiction they needed to maintain for the benefit of their fellow travelers. Besides their own group of Rosie, Abby, Leah and Chloe, they were traveling with about sixty other children, plus three teachers and twenty parents. Most of the other adults were traveling alone, although there were a few couples like John and Sherlock. Couples. He sighed and flicked his thumb and finger at Sherlock's hand to make him move it off his thigh.

They'd had lunch at the airport, but once they took off John rewarded himself with a beer for getting everyone on the plane without major incident, and then a second one when the flight attendant came round again a little while later. Next to him, Sherlock began to talk about the types of clouds they were passing through. John reclined his seat as much as he could and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he found that he had tipped sideways in his sleep and had apparently been using Sherlock's upper arm as a pillow. 

"Sorry." He made a useless pass of his thumb over a small spot of drool he'd left on Sherlock's suit, then rubbed at his face to wake himself up fully. 

"I don't mind," Sherlock said, and then smirked. "I would've shoved you off but I didn't think that was what a good husband would do."

John glanced around reflexively, but no one was paying them any attention. He got up to use the loo and when he returned Rosie had switched to an empty seat a few rows back, where her friends were sitting. He and Sherlock spent most of the rest of the long flight alone, and John was pleased to find that the awkwardness he felt when he thought others were watching them pretend to be a couple was absent when it was only the two of them—they were just Sherlock and John, the same as they always had been.

When they arrived in Orlando, John put Sherlock in charge of the girls, which meant that as they passed through Customs he was too busy making sure everyone had the correct passports and luggage to give any smartarse answers about why they were there or what he did for a living. In fact, John was pleasantly surprised at how compliant Sherlock was. There were a couple of seconds while they were waiting for the buses to the hotel when he was sure that Sherlock was going to grab Rosie and her friends and bolt for the queue of taxis, but John linked his arm through Sherlock's, whispered that they were being watched, and the moment passed. 

Eventually their buses arrived. Sherlock jostled a bit to make sure their group got on the first one, and John was hot and tired enough that he didn't object. At least the bus had air conditioning. His trousers and shirt had been fine for the plane, but were too heavy for even a few minutes outside in Orlando. Sherlock had stowed his overcoat in his wheeled luggage as soon as he'd retrieved it at the baggage claim, though he hadn't taken off his suit jacket yet—John didn't know how he could stand it.

As soon as they started moving, the telly screens that dotted the bus began to play, some sort of promotion for the Disney parks, unsurprisingly. John leaned back against the seat's headrest, wondering if he could tune the video out enough to sneak in another quick kip. Sherlock, however, leaned forward to speak to Rosie and Abby, who were seated in front of them. When he settled back in his seat a moment later, John glanced over to see that he had borrowed one of the Disney guidebooks Abby had brought with her. Good. Maybe it would keep him from ranting about the propaganda blaring from the small screens overhead.

John didn't fall asleep again, mainly because every minute or so Sherlock would nudge him so he could point out some tidbit in the book. John nodded agreement each time, but paid no real attention. If Sherlock wanted to learn everything he could about Disney World so he could play tour guide for their group, let him.

"Give me your phone," Sherlock demanded, after the third or fourth time John absently agreed with him. 

John handed it over without question. Sherlock swiped through several screens and then handed it back—when John glanced down he saw that it was installing a Disney app. Of course. 

After about half an hour, the bus slowed as they approached a giant sign that marked the entrance to official Disney property. It featured Mickey and Minnie Mouse, one on either side of the road, and proclaimed "Walt Disney World: Where Dreams Come True" on a brightly-colored banner overhead. As they passed beneath it, most of the kids flocked to the windows to take pictures. John wasn't particularly impressed by cartoon mice, no matter how large they were, but he did appreciate all the palm trees. And watching Rosie and her friends, who tried so hard to act grown-up most of the time, let go of their inhibitions and allow their excitement to show was even more gratifying. He glanced over at Sherlock to see his reaction, but he was too busy looking back and forth between his phone and the guidebook to notice that they were crossing onto Disney property or that Rosie and her friends had temporarily regained their childhood senses of wonder.

After another few minutes of driving, they reached the Caribbean Beach Resort. John was not at all surprised when Sherlock started to stand up. "Nope." He put his hand on Sherlock's thigh to keep him in his seat. "Not our hotel."

"It's not?" Sherlock crooked his neck to peer out the window. "Why not?"

"We're staying at Pop Century. You really should've read the trip info before today."

Sherlock frowned and looked down at his book again, flipping through the pages while they waited for the handful of people on the bus who weren't traveling with their group to disembark and get their luggage.

Twenty minutes later and they finally reached their own hotel. It was getting dark already, but John could see as they got off the bus that it wasn't as nicely landscaped as the other resort. The lush, tropical greenery that had dominated the Caribbean was here mostly replaced with concrete and neon-hued plastic décor. The hotel's logo screamed its name in vivid red and orange comic-book font that gave him a bit of a headache. 

Sherlock took off with Rosie and her friends to explore the hotel's main building, leaving John to stand in the heat waiting for their luggage to be unloaded from beneath the bus. He blinked his eyes shut for a moment. They'd been traveling for over twelve hours and he could feel every minute of it. Most of the kids appeared to still have energy, based on the number who were shouting and laughing as they milled about the car park, but he knew they had to be running on fumes at this point. If they'd been at home, Rosie would have been in bed three hours ago. 

A few minutes later, Sherlock returned alone. John noticed that even he had dark circles under his eyes, probably because he'd stayed up half the night repacking the suitcase John had prepared for him. "We should've stayed at the Caribbean hotel," Sherlock grumbled. 

"This one costs less," John said. "Grab that blue suitcase, it's Chloe's."

Sherlock obediently hefted Chloe's bag out of the pile next to the bus. "I didn't realize this was going to be a discount holiday."

"Not everyone in Rosie's class has your kind of money, Sherlock."

"Most of them do. And I would have been willing to subsidize the rest."

John rolled his eyes. "This place will be fine. We'll be spending most of our time in the parks, anyway."

"The lobby is full of old toys and trinkets that are nearly as ancient as Mycroft."

"The theme is twentieth-century American pop culture."

"I know that." He brandished the guidebook that he was still carrying around. "If we had to stay at a value resort, we should've chosen the music-themed one."

"I doubt it would be the kind of music you like."

"Hmph. That one's Abby's." Sherlock grabbed another suitcase from the growing pile. "I checked and there are vacancies in most of the other resorts here. The six of us could move up a step or two in the Disney hotel hierarchy."

"We're not changing hotels."

"Why not?"

"Because we are part of a group and we are going to stay with the group. Where are the girls? I'm not hauling six big suitcases to our rooms by myself."

"They're playing with hula hoops over there." He gestured toward the main building. "I'll get them. I bet they would love an upgrade. The Animal Kingdom Lodge looks nice, and it's not even the most expensive."

"Sherlock."

"What?" He turned back toward John, spreading his hands as if he had no idea what John's objection might be.

"Do not tell the girls we can switch hotels," John said, through gritted teeth. "We are not switching hotels."

"You can stay here if you'd like. We'll be fine without you."

John couldn't tell if Sherlock was serious or joking, but he was in no mood to play games like this. He let go of the handle of the bag he was holding and stepped close to Sherlock. Sherlock might have the height advantage, but John knew how to stare him down. "You want to go stay in a different hotel, without me? Are we getting divorced so soon?"

Sherlock looked down at him, unblinking, for a moment, then said, "Rosie would be crushed."

"I know."

"Although," Sherlock took a step back. "I suppose I could find a new lover here somewhere." 

John laughed out loud. 

"What? I can be very charming," Sherlock said. He turned away as if surveying the other people nearby, mostly exhausted-looking parents from Rosie's class, plus a few other tourists walking to or from the car park.

"Okay." John stepped up beside him. "How about that bloke who just got out of that little white car? He looks like your type."

"He's wearing a Doctor Who t-shirt."

"Mm-hmm. A bit of a geek, but I bet he's smart. You two should have lots to talk about."

"Hmm," Sherlock said. "I think he's married." He nodded as a woman got out of the small white car as well.

"Oh, well. I guess you're stuck with me, then."

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest for a second, then looked past John, his expression of mock exasperation morphing into something else. "Pretend you like me again," he murmured, and stepped close so he could slip an arm over John's shoulders.

It was far too hot to be touching each other, but John turned to face the same direction as Sherlock, sliding his own arm around Sherlock's back. Rosie's teacher, Mrs. Hicks, had emerged from the hotel lobby and headed straight to the two of them.

"Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes. I haven't had a chance to congratulate the two of you yet, it's been so hectic getting here." She motioned toward the hotel lobby with a folder she was holding. "I've got all the room assignments here, and we're all checked in. I wasn't sure if they'd be able to fill all my requests, but they did. You have your own room, of course, and it connects with the room Rosie and the other girls have." She opened the folder and pulled out the top two sheets of paper. "Here are the room numbers. Our whole group is in the '60s building, though not all on the same floor."

She handed John the papers, which were maps of the resort with their room numbers written on them. One of the maps had the room number circled with a puffy heart shape. He cut a quick glance sideways, but Sherlock betrayed no reaction. 

"And, I can't forget these!" Mrs. Hicks reached into her folder again and from one of the pockets withdrew two buttons, each about three inches in diameter. They were purple and said "Happily Ever After" on them, beneath a picture of Cinderella's castle overlaid with two rings shaped like mouse ears. It took John a moment to process the fact that they were meant to be wedding rings, and that Mrs. Hicks expected them to wear the buttons.

"Rosie was so excited when she told me you two finally got married!" She thrust the buttons into Sherlock's hand, since John was holding the maps. "I understand why you need to keep quiet about it back at home, but here you can celebrate without worrying, right?"

John frowned at her in confusion, but Sherlock squeezed his shoulder and answered her. "Of course. No one knows us here, so there's no reason to keep our relationship quiet for fear of it being used against us because of my work." 

John didn't dare look at Sherlock's face again, but he could imagine the fake grin he must have been giving Mrs. Hicks. John himself pretended to study the map he was holding. 

Mrs. Hicks lowered her voice. "I talked to Mrs. Gillespie and Mr. Barnes, and we agreed that if the two of you would like some time alone, we'd be happy to take charge of your group for an afternoon or evening. Maybe later in the week?"

"Um, thank you." John bit at his lip and looked up at her briefly, trying to smile, then back down at the paper in his hand. He wanted to relax into Sherlock's arm around his shoulders, wanted to tug Sherlock closer than he was, even though they were already pressed together hip to hip. God, he wanted to plant a kiss on Sherlock's cheek while Rosie's teacher watched, and he had clearly made a very grave mistake. How was he possibly going to survive a week of this, of letting Sherlock wrap an arm around him whenever someone looked at the two of them, knowing that as soon as they were alone they'd have to step apart again?

Mrs. Hicks smiled at them and then turned away, riffling through her folder to find the room assignments for the rest of the chaperones. 

"Might be nice to have a few hours without kids around," Sherlock said, as she walked away. "I'm afraid the girls have headed inside again to find the gift shop." He dropped his arm from around John's shoulders and strode off. 

John sighed and forced his mind back to more important issues. He had six backpacks that the group had left with him, plus six large pieces of checked luggage. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up the group text they had started this morning. _\--Anyone who wants to brush their teeth or change their clothes this week needs to come get their suitcase now._

The four girls and Sherlock returned shortly, though he wasn't sure if it was in response to his text. Sherlock did seem to have a way to get them to listen that John lacked himself. Everyone grabbed their own luggage and they followed the rest of the group across the hotel grounds to their building.

It wasn't a very long walk, but it took some time because the girls stopped to gape at every minor detail of the décor, even though John found it all a bit gaudy. He supposed it was meant to appeal more to tweens than fifty-somethings, despite the theming that dated back to when he was a child. And pre-dated his childhood, even, given that they were staying in the '60s building. They passed by a three-story-high can of Play-doh and a staircase built to look like a yo-yo on their way to the lift to their room.

"Can we go swimming now, Dad?" Rosie asked as they waited for the lift. They'd been unable to avoid walking by the pool on the way to their building, and seen a good number of guests who were swimming even though it was almost fully dark. 

"Can we go to the Magic Kingdom? They have Extra Magic Hours until midnight tonight!" That was Abby, the girl who had loaned Sherlock her guidebooks.

The lift dinged open and John automatically put his hand out to hold the door while they all got on. "Aren't you girls tired? I'm exhausted."

"I'm not tired at all," Rosie said, then immediately betrayed herself by stumbling over the sill of the lift and tipping over the suitcase she was dragging. Sherlock righted it and pulled it into the lift for her.

"I'm tired," Chloe said. She leaned back against the wall of the elevator and twisted a lock of her long brown hair around the fingers of her right hand. "What time is it?"

"Well, it's about 8:45 right now Florida time, but that means it's almost two in the morning back at home. So yeah, we're not going swimming or to the park. We're going to find our rooms and go right to bed, hmm?"

He expected at least a token argument, but all four girls nodded agreement instead. 

"Then we can get up early and be at Magic Kingdom for rope drop!" Abby said.

"What's that?" asked Rosie.

"It's when you queue up at the entrance before they open and then you're one of the first ones into the park!"

John had no idea what time rope drop was, but it sounded way too early. "We might need to give ourselves a few days to adjust to the schedule here. No waking each other up early tomorrow, okay?" He made a mental note to keep an eye on Abby if he wanted any control over their schedule for the coming week.

They got off the lift and dragged their bags down the hallway. Rather than keycards, everyone had been issued a wristband—a MagicBand, in Disney terminology—that gave them access to the rooms and held their park tickets and meal plan credits. After a brief tussle over who got to open the door the first time, which Rosie won, John and Sherlock followed the girls into their room. It was cramped, though the two beds were plenty big enough for four tween girls. Luckily, the décor of the room was more understated than the outside of the hotel: simple mid-Century American design, plain white linens on the beds, and a dash of color provided by pop art of Mickey Mouse on the wall. With the door closed they couldn't hear any noise from the pool, which was visible through the room's window.

The air-conditioning was set exceedingly low; John turned it up a bit, trying to remember what Fahrenheit degrees meant, then stayed to referee the assigning of beds and turns in the loo. Sherlock helped out by having each girl unpack their clothes into a drawer and make sure they knew where their sun cream and hats were for tomorrow, then went next door to check out his and John's room.

John hesitated for a moment when all four girls were finally ready for bed. Rosie still liked to be tucked in at night, though he knew she would never admit that in front of her friends. He settled for saying goodnight to all of them, then blowing a kiss toward her. 

"Da-ad. Just leave already. We want to sleep." 

John chuckled. "Okay. I'm going to leave the connecting doors closed but unlocked, in case anyone needs anything. Just knock before you come in, unless it's a real emergency."

"Fine. Good night, Dad." Rosie turned her back to him and John took that as his cue to leave. 

Sherlock met him in the doorway to their room. He'd taken off his shoes and socks and suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt—he was finally beginning to look like he was on holiday. "There's something you should know about our room."

John wrinkled his brow. "Hmm?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Or maybe you already know it, and just didn't tell me. Or told me and I wasn't listening."

"What are you talking about?"

Sherlock stepped to the side to allow John into the room. John, eager to finally be able to go to sleep after a very long day, took two steps inside and then stopped. "There's only one bed."

"Ah. So you didn't know."

"No, I—of course not." John swallowed. "I mean, it's all families who come to stay here, right? Why would they only have one bed?"

"Mrs. Hicks said they filled all of her room requests, so I have to assume that she requested this one for us."

"Oh, my God." John put a hand up to his forehead as the headache he'd been nursing suddenly doubled in strength.

"It's a king-sized mattress. It's certainly more than big enough for the two of us. You know I won't sleep much anyway. Unless you'd like to see if they have another room available?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows, but from the way he'd already hung up his jacket and shirts, it appeared that he had planned to stay.

"No, this will be fine," John said. The single bed meant there was more space to move around in the rest of the tiny room, and its location next to Rosie's room was ideal. He pursed his lips. "Just keep your freezing cold feet away from me when I'm asleep."

"We're in Florida in June. I somehow don't think you'll mind my cold feet." 

John smiled in spite of himself and went to unpack some of his own suitcase. They didn't speak of the sleeping arrangements again as they got ready for bed. John took a quick shower but Sherlock elected to wait until tomorrow; John knew he preferred to wash his hair in the morning. 

When John came out of the bathroom, Sherlock was sitting in one of the chairs at the room's small table. He had two guidebooks propped open in front of him and was squinting at something on his phone. 

"You are going to go to bed tonight," John told him.

"I will. I just want to finish reading up on the Magic Kingdom. I don't want any more surprises, like finding out we're flying economy class and staying in one of the value hotels."

"Don't worry. I think everything else we do will be very expensive." John shook his head. "Don't stay up too late."

"Ugh, Da-ad." Sherlock's mimicry of Rosie's voice was unnerving. John threw the dirty socks he'd been wearing at him and Sherlock smirked when they fell well short of their target. "I won't stay up too late. Go to bed. You look exhausted."

"I am." John climbed into the bed. It was soft enough that he knew he'd be asleep immediately, which was much better than the feared alternative of lying awake worrying about the fact that he was sharing a bed with Sherlock. And what was there to worry about, anyway? Even assuming Sherlock didn't spend the night reading and downloading various Disney apps onto his phone, there really was plenty of room for them both in the bed. They probably could have fit Rosie in, as well, and still had room to spare. 

He stretched out on his back, taking care to stay well to one side of the mattress. When he closed his eyes he felt like he was moving. "Feels like I'm still on the plane."

"Oh, I hate that."

"Mm, I don't know," John said. "It's kind of relaxing. And also exciting. Like I'm zooming off to go on some new adventure." He wasn't quite sure if he was speaking out loud or not, or if he should be.

He heard Sherlock moving the books he was reading. "You're about to fall asleep right now, aren't you?"

"Mm-hmm." John pushed at his pillow with both hands, then rolled onto his side, away from Sherlock. "Goodnight, Sherlock. Don't forget to come sleep with me when you're done." He knew that wasn't quite what he'd meant to say, but he could worry about it more in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

John fully expected that he would wake up the next morning to find himself alone in the bed, but when Rosie rapped on their door about an hour after sunrise, he opened his eyes to the sight of Sherlock sprawled on his stomach next to him. He didn't let himself stare for more than a second or two, even though Sherlock had kicked off the sheet and his t-shirt had hiked up along his ribs, revealing a strip of pale flesh and the tip of one of the scars on his back. The small glimpse of skin was a rare opportunity; it had been many years since Sherlock had wandered around the flat wearing nothing but a sheet.

"Hang on, I'm coming," he said to Rosie, and rolled out of bed, joints protesting at having to move after a long night of sleep. Sherlock didn't stir. 

As soon as John opened the door between the rooms, Rosie began to talk. "Leah accidentally flooded the bathroom and now all our towels are wet but I still need to have a shower. Also I'm starving. Does this hotel have room service?" She stepped past him into the room.

John rubbed at his eyes. "We're not getting room service for breakfast. How bad is the flooding?"

"It's fine. We cleaned it up. That's why all the towels are wet." 

"All right." He headed to his own bathroom to get her one of their extra towels. On the way back he swung it toward Sherlock, hitting the mattress next to him. "Wake up."

"No," said Sherlock, not even flinching at the crack of the towel next to him. 

John sighed and turned to Rosie. "Has everyone else already showered?"

"Yeah. Leah still has to do her hair, but everyone else is ready to go to breakfast but I told them we had to wait for you so that's why I think we should consider room service."

"No. Go hurry up and get washed and then we'll all go over to the food court together. Well, maybe not Sherlock."

As predicted, Sherlock was not out of bed by the time Rosie was showered and dressed, so John took the girls to breakfast in the hotel's main building by himself. The food court offered a decent selection of fresh hot and cold breakfast items, as well as pre-packaged foods, though all of the girls opted for Mickey-shaped waffles drowned in artificial syrup. John had an omelet, potatoes and a small cup of diced fruit. He knew Sherlock wouldn't want to eat much, so he got a croissant and coffee to bring back to the room for him. 

At least he was out of bed by the time they got back; he had showered and was drying his hair when John pushed open the door separating the two rooms.

"Please tell me you brought me coffee," Sherlock said, clicking off the hair dryer. He tugged the tie of his dressing gown tight before turning around and John wondered why he had even brought a dressing gown on holiday to Florida, and if he was wearing anything beneath it right now.

He shook the thought away. "I did bring you coffee, but now I don't want to give it to you because it's hot and you're using a blow dryer and it's already a hundred degrees outside."

"It is not a hundred degrees."

"No," John agreed, "but I'm rubbish at Fahrenheit and it's pretty damn hot out there." He juggled the three plastic mugs he was carrying until he found the one that was warm. 

Sherlock frowned at him. "It's plastic." 

"Yeah. You can use it to get free refills from the hotel food court all week." 

Sherlock continued to frown. "Plastic," he repeated, then took the mug and drained half of it in one long gulp. "Next time use more sugar. It'll cover up the taste."

"Next time get out of bed and come with us to breakfast," John said, though he wasn't really upset. He hadn't expected Sherlock to become an early riser just because they were on holiday. "Rosie has a croissant for you, unless she ate it already."

Sherlock finished off the rest of his coffee, then shrugged out of his dressing gown. He was fully-clothed beneath it, in a light gray short-sleeved button-down along with a darker gray pair of Bermuda shorts, the whole ensemble looking as crisp and perfectly tailored as always. 

John glanced down at his own outfit. He knew the blue-checked seersucker shirt flattered him, but the baggy cargo shorts probably ruined the look. Oh well, they were more practical than Sherlock's outfit. 

He went back into the girls' room to check that everyone was applying adequate sun cream, then opened the small fridge-freezer that sat in the corner. Mrs. Hicks had arranged to have cases of water delivered to all the rooms so they would have cold drinks to bring with them to the parks. He pulled a couple out, planning to carry them in his pockets, then realized no one else would be able to fit a bottle of water in their shorts' pockets. Plus, they needed to bring the sun cream, enough for them all to reapply it every hour or so, and it probably wouldn't hurt to bring his little first aid kit, just in case. He sighed and went to find the backpack that he'd brought on the plane.

Eight bottles of water seemed to be sufficient—one for each of them, plus a couple of extras. The girls started handing him other things to carry as he packed the bag: hats, a hairbrush, Leah's glasses case, a zippered plastic bag full of nuts and granola. He drew the line at Chloe's chocolate bar, which would melt in the heat, and closed up the backpack, testing its weight with one hand.

"Oh, good," Sherlock said, when he saw John with the bag. He pulled a small guidebook with a picture of Cinderella's Castle on the cover from his back pocket. "This is supposed to be a pocket guide but it doesn't really fit." 

"I'm not carrying that around all day. Isn't all the info on your phone anyway?"

Sherlock looked hurt, though John knew he was exaggerating. "I like paper books. What if the wifi quality is poor in the park?"

"Fine." He slipped the book into the bag's outer pocket. "Hey, Abby," he called. "Did your mum and dad carry this much stuff around when you were here last year?"

"Well, it was February so we didn't need as much water and we put a bag in the bottom of my little sister's pushchair so we didn't have to carry it around all day."

"Want to rent a pram?" Sherlock asked with a snicker.

John glared at him and hoisted the bag onto his back. "Everyone ready?"

They caught one of the resort buses headed to the Magic Kingdom. Quite a few of Rosie's classmates were on the same bus, including Mrs. Hicks, who greeted them warmly and then immediately asked, "Where are your newlywed buttons?" 

John had forgotten about them completely, not that he'd planned on wearing his anyway, but Sherlock smiled at her and said, "Oh, we didn't want to risk losing them in the park." That seemed to be an acceptable answer, because she didn't push the issue.

John thought the bus would take them directly to the Magic Kingdom, but instead, once they got off they had to join another queue to board the monorail.

"Do we really have to take a bus and a train just to get there?"

"Yes. John, didn't you prepare at all for this trip?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "There's a guidebook in your bag if you'd like to brush up before we arrive."

John held up his hand. "No, thanks. I'll just let you lead me around."

"Of course you will."

John didn't expect to be impressed by the monorail—it was just an elevated train—but he had to admit it was much quieter and smelled better than the Tube. The girls spent the ride jostling each other and the other people in their carriage as they crossed from side to side to look out the windows, trying to see everything they could as they approached the park. At one point the train slowed as it passed through a hotel and they got a glimpse of the restaurant they would be eating at later in the week.

When they finally arrived at the Magic Kingdom, John had to stand in another queue to have his bag checked. He could see Sherlock and the girls taking selfies in front of a giant Mickey Mouse face made of flowers while they waited for him. When he joined them, Rosie pushed him toward Sherlock so she could get a photo of the two of them together. They'd lost track of the rest of her class, given the size of the larger crowd entering the park around them, but he and Sherlock still put their arms around each other and grinned for her camera phone. 

They hadn't quite made it in time for rope drop, but it was still early when they finally got through the ticket gates and into the park. As they entered, they passed a rack of glossy paper maps and Sherlock grabbed one, though John was absolutely certain he'd been looking at the same map on his phone while they were on the monorail. 

The crowd around them thinned as they walked, though there was still a steady stream of people all going in the same direction, headed down a street that had been made to look like an old-fashioned American town. John started to follow the crowd, but Sherlock grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the side instead.

"Where are we going?"

"The train station's right here."

"Another train? Aren't we going to the castle first?" He knew the girls were well past their Disney princess stage, but the giant castle in the middle of the park still seemed like the logical destination. Every other person seemed to be headed that way, at least. The street leading up to it was lined with shopfronts and vendors selling balloons and photographers stopping families to take their pictures.

"No! Look at that crowd! We're taking the train to Frontierland."

"Why?"

"First we're going to ride Big Thunder Mountain, then we have FastPasses for Splash Mountain starting at ten. Come on, John!"

John let himself be pulled to the side and up the stairs to wait in a pseudo-old-fashioned train station. The train ride through the trees along the edge of the park wasn't the best first impression, and he couldn't believe it when they arrived at Big Thunder Mountain to discover that it was yet another train, but the ride itself was worth it. As roller coasters went, it was quite tame, but it reminded him of the rickety wooden coasters he'd enjoyed as a child. He thought Chloe, the most timid of the group, was going to balk when she saw the train hurtling by as they waited, but she didn't. He and Sherlock sat behind her and Rosie, and while the girls white-knuckled the safety bar for most of the ride, by the end they were both laughing with glee.

Big Thunder Mountain was fun, but they all agreed they liked Splash Mountain even more—it was a flume ride with some well-done animatronics, plus at the end they were sprayed with marginally cool water. Except for Sherlock, who somehow managed to get completely drenched. 

"There's pictures!" Rosie exclaimed, as they walked past a number of screens near the exit from the ride area. "There we are!"

The photo had caught all four girls mid-scream as their log descended the ride's last, steepest hill. John was grinning at the camera he hadn't even known was there, and Sherlock was looking at John. 

Sherlock pushed his wet hair back off his forehead and then raised his MagicBand to the touchpoint below the photo screen. John frowned at him. "Just making sure it gets added to our PhotoPass account," Sherlock explained. "So I'll remember what I used to look like when I was dry."

As they walked out of Splash Mountain and headed to the next ride, John realized that up until now he'd been waiting for Sherlock to drop the act and reveal that he actually hated amusement parks and walking through sweltering heat while accompanied by overexcited tweens. But that wasn't going to happen, because Sherlock was having fun, possibly more than John himself was. This wasn't exactly John's dream holiday, after all, though watching Sherlock and the girls enjoy themselves was improving the experience considerably.

"What's next?" he asked, as the path they were on branched in two directions. 

Sherlock gave him a grin far out of proportion for a middle-aged Englishman on his first trip to Disney World. "Follow me."

There wasn't much to see the way he led them, other than a couple of food vendors, and they hadn't been there long enough to be hungry yet. They passed under an arch declaring that they were entering Adventureland, and Sherlock picked up the pace. A minute later John realized why and began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

John shifted the backpack higher on his shoulders—it was heavier than he'd thought. "You. Rushing across the park to go on the pirate ride."

Sherlock tilted his head at him. "It's the next logical stop on our route."

"Of course it is. Plus, there are pirates."

Sherlock glared at him and then shepherded the girls into the Pirates of the Caribbean building, a Disney-fied version of an old Spanish fort. 

It was dark and cool inside while they waited in the fast-moving queue, but John distributed water bottles just to lessen the weight he was carrying, though he collected them all again before they boarded. The ride wasn't as thrilling as the ones they'd already done, but it was amusing and he could tell that Sherlock really did enjoy seeing all the pirate scenes, even if he wouldn't admit it. 

When they left the ride, John pointed to the shop next to it and raised his eyebrows.

"Shut up," Sherlock said.

"What? I thought you might want a makeover." This morning John had already seen a couple of young kids made up to look like pirates; they must have had it done here at the Pirate's League. 

"I'm not likely to want to walk around all day dressed as a pirate," Sherlock said. "Though I wouldn't complain if you'd like to...."

John grinned, though he was a little surprised at the innuendo in Sherlock's voice. He didn't think any of the girls in their group really thought they were a couple, since they were all close friends with Rosie, and even if they did, none of them were within earshot at the moment, so there was no reason for him to be putting on his newly-married couple act.

After the Pirates ride they made a long trek to the Haunted Mansion. The ghosts and ghouls came off as more than a bit cheesy to John, but he heard some genuine screams coming from the carriage behind his and Sherlock's, so either Rosie or Chloe was really afraid. As for himself, John decided any ride that was inside where it was cool and dark and he could sit down was fine with him. 

It was noon by the time they finished the Haunted Mansion. Next up was Fantasyland, which was what John had pictured when he thought of the Magic Kingdom before today. Unfortunately, the first attraction they tried there was It's a Small World; by the end of the ride, John could practically see Sherlock's resolve to enjoy himself break. 

"That was the most irritating, vapid, racist experience I have ever—" Sherlock cut himself off with a shake of his head. He stepped to the side of the pathway just outside the attraction and waved his arms at the girls, motioning them to huddle around. "Okay. We need to raise our standards. Abby, you've been here before, what would you recommend?" He opened the map he had picked up earlier and held it out so everyone could see.

"Peter Pan is good," Abby said, pointing to the map. "It's got London in it." 

"It's right over there." Sherlock lifted his head, shielding his eyes against the sun. "Says there's a ninety-minute wait time, though."

"Yeah, I think it was like that when we were here last year, too. My dad bought us ice cream while we waited."

"What do you think, John? Is it worth ninety minutes to see a bit of London?" 

"Can't we get one of those FastPasses for it?" John nodded at the sign outside the ride, which listed the FastPass wait time as only 20 minutes.

"We've already got FastPasses for Space Mountain and the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train later on, and there's a limit of three a day."

Of course. Another train. Ice cream sounded good, though. "I could go for ice cream. What do you think, girls?"

"Ice cream!" Rosie shouted. "It's too hot."

"I want a Mickey bar!" said Abby, and the other girls agreed.

Sherlock got in the queue for Peter Pan with Abby, Chloe and Leah while John took Rosie to find one of the many carts that sold ice cream and other refreshments.

When they returned, Sherlock and the others had looped through the queue enough times that John and Rosie had to squeeze their way past several rows of people to join them. Sherlock scowled when John handed him a strawberry ice lolly instead of the chocolate and vanilla concoctions the girls were eating, but admitted after a bite that it was sweet enough to satisfy him. The heat melted the ice cream faster than any of them could eat it, and they all ended up a bit sticky by the time they were done. John wished he'd thought to toss a package of hand wipes into his bag—it wouldn't have added much to the weight and would have been useful.

By the time the queue moved them into the building proper, they were done eating, but the wait continued. It wasn't as tedious as it could've been, since the interior waiting area was set up to look like the Darling house from the Disney film, so at least there was something to look at. John took the backpack off his shoulders and tried to stretch a bit, leaning against the wall whenever he could so his muscles wouldn't seize up any more than they already were.

They ended up waiting a little more than an hour, better than the projected time. John wasn't sure that it was worth waiting over an hour for a three-minute ride, but it had more pirates and a London scene and John himself had good memories of the film from his own childhood.

By the time they were done it was past lunchtime, though no one was particularly hungry after the ice cream. The heat when they walked outside seemed to have doubled, so they headed to the closest indoor attraction, which was a 3-D film starring Donald Duck. The wait was short and the film was agreeable enough. After that they had FastPasses to ride the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train, although they still had to wait nearly thirty minutes before they could board.

When they came out, John was ready to call it a day. The girls wouldn't admit to being tired, but they had all slowed considerably since this morning. They could go back to the hotel and eat at the food court, then lounge at the pool all evening. But they were a long way from the park's entrance, and as they started walking, Rosie spied the Mad Tea Party and its spinning tea cups. No way John was setting foot on that, but everyone else was eager to give it a whirl. 

It was late afternoon, but the sun was as strong as ever. The spinning cups were set up like a carnival attraction—there was a roof over the ride but no indoor waiting area, just a queue that wrapped around it. John gave everyone their bottle of water and went to find a seat on one of the low brick walls nearby. He couldn't get a spot in the shade, but he did have a good view of Sherlock and the girls once they were on the ride. Sherlock and Rosie shared a cup, and when they first started to move John thought he might have been able to handle it himself, but then they grabbed the wheel in the center of the cup and began to make themselves spin faster. Just watching made John a bit queasy.

When the ride was over, John didn't move from his spot on the wall, waiting for everyone to join him instead. It was slightly gratifying to see Sherlock sway a bit at his first few steps outside of the tea cup, though by the time he reached the exit gate he was steady on his feet again. He and the girls clustered around John's bench. 

"Are we ready to head back to the hotel?" John asked.

"We've got FastPasses for Space Mountain at seven o'clock," Sherlock replied. "All the guides say it's a can't miss ride for tweens and adults."

"That's three hours from now."

"Can't miss," Sherlock repeated.

John sighed and lowered his head. "All right. But we need to take a break for a while. Dinner?"

"Starving," Sherlock replied, and all the girls echoed him, stomachs apparently undisturbed by two minutes of rapid spinning. 

"Let's eat in the castle!" Chloe suggested.

"We would need reservations." Sherlock pulled out his paper map again. "Of the quick service restaurants, I think either Columbia Harbour House or Pecos Bill would best suit our tastes." He pointed to each on the map, then switched to his phone to read off their menus, which were fish and vegetarian options or fajitas and tacos, respectively. 

"Isn't there anything closer?" Leah asked.

Sherlock frowned. "Pinocchio Village Haus has cheesy flatbreads and pasta. It's back near Small World."

"Too far," said Rosie.

"It really isn't," Sherlock told her.

"What about this one?" John pointed to the map.

"Cosmic Ray's Starlight Cafe," Sherlock said. "It's mostly cheeseburgers."

"They have chicken nuggets, because that's all my brother will eat," Abby said. "And it's right over there," she added. 

John turned around and saw that the restaurant was right behind them. "Cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets it is," he said. 

The restaurant was much larger than what John would normally term a cafe, but still crowded. The girls spied two free tables and went to hold them while John and Sherlock got into the queue to order. John craned his neck to peer up at the menu; there were a few more choices besides cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets, though he wondered if the strawberry chunks in his ice lolly earlier counted as a healthy lunch.

Sherlock, standing behind him, said, "You'll have the barbecued pork sandwich."

"Will I?" John twisted his neck from side to side, rolling his shoulders. "I was thinking of the Greek salad."

"No, I'll have the Greek Salad, with chicken, and you'll eat all the olives out of it."

John laughed at Sherlock's accuracy, then winced and brought his hand up to his left shoulder. "Damn backpack. It's not even that heavy." He shrugged his shoulders together, letting the bag slip down.

"Let me," Sherlock said, and John turned a bit to try to hand him the bag, but Sherlock ignored it. "Face forward," he said, and John obeyed, setting the bag on the floor at his feet. Before John knew what was happening, Sherlock had his hands on John's shoulders. 

"What are you—ahh, not so rough, all right?"

Sherlock loosened his grip slightly, but continued to rub at the muscles to either side of John's neck. It hurt.

"Gentle," John told him. "You're trying to coax the muscles to relax, not beat them into submission."

"Am I?" Sherlock's voice was low and very close to John's ear, but he lightened his touch even more and began to apply the perfect amount of pressure. John shrugged both shoulders and dropped his chin. It would've felt good no matter who was giving the massage, but the fact that it was Sherlock was an added bonus. And he was allowed to let people see that he was enjoying it, which was frankly rather unbelievable.

Unfortunately, the restaurant staff was quite efficient, and the queue moved too quickly for the massage to last long. They got their food and returned to the tables with their own meals and enough chicken nuggets and chips—fries, they were called here—to feed twice as many girls. 

They took their time eating, discussing what they wanted to do with the rest of their day, though it was a bit hard to hear over the music that came from some sort of animatronic alien that sat in the far corner of the cafe. Sherlock was adamant that they stay at least until it was time to use their final FastPass of the day. 

John stole the last of Sherlock's olives and asked, "How did we get these FastPasses?" 

"I picked them last night." Sherlock pushed his plate aside and opened up the Disney app on his phone, turning it so John could see. "They're linked to our MagicBands."

John pulled the phone closer. The first name of everyone in their group was listed on the screen, next to a Disney cartoon avatar. "Am I Mr. Incredible?"

Sherlock pulled the phone back quickly. "There was a limited selection. I was trying to pick the one who looked most like you, and I didn't think you wanted to be the old man from Up."

"Thanks." A decade ago, John would've been astounded that Sherlock knew who most of the Disney characters were, but years of helping to raise Rosie had given him a thorough grounding, even if he did still try to play dumb occasionally. "And of course you're Captain Hook."

"Like I said. A limited selection."

"Cause he would've been Jack Sparrow if he could," Rosie chimed in. 

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "They only let you choose from cartoon characters."

John refrained from offering his opinion on the cartoonishness of Jack Sparrow, since he knew how much Sherlock liked the character. "You make an excellent Captain Hook," he said, trying to keep a straight face. 

"I'm Tinker Bell!" Rosie announced.

"I want to be Moana, not Snow White," Abby said, and Sherlock slid his phone over so the girls could change their characters.

By the time they left the cafe, they still had a lot of time to kill, but the food had given them a second wind, so they walked over to Cinderella's Castle. 

Chloe in particular was enchanted with the castle, even though there wasn't anything to do in it besides look at some murals and peer into a restaurant and a hair salon that gave little girls princess makeovers. John knew that Rosie didn't really care much either way about princesses, and Abby seemed uninterested as well, but Leah was actively against showing any interest in the castle. "What if someone from our class sees us? They'll think we're babies."

"Relax, Leah," Rosie said. "No one we know is around, and who even cares what people think?"

Leah shook her head. "This is boring anyway. Let's go on more rides."

They walked back over to Tomorrowland and waited in another long queue so they could shoot aliens with Buzz Lightyear, which would have been fun if Sherlock weren't so competitive. John vetoed getting back in the queue a second time so they could try to improve their scores. Instead, they spent a leisurely quarter-hour on something called the PeopleMover, which made a lazy circle around Tomorrowland and gave John the chance to get some good pictures on his phone, both of the park and of Rosie and Sherlock.

After that it was finally time for Space Mountain, though they still needed to wait some, even with their FastPasses. The ride itself was a slightly more exciting roller coaster than the one they had been on first thing that morning. John liked roller coasters—sudden drops and swoops didn't make him sick like prolonged spinning did—but the fact that this one took place mostly in the dark was a drawback, because not being able to anticipate the coaster's next move made him tense up and wrench his already sore neck several times. 

"All right," he said, when they were outside once more. "We're done now, right? Back to the hotel?"

"We have to stay for the fireworks, Dad! Please! Sherlock, tell him."

Sherlock shrugged. "What's another hour or two at this point, really?"

John closed his eyes for a moment. He could go back to the hotel alone, but he really didn't want to abandon the group. "I will stay on one condition." He handed his backpack to Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned at him. "It's not heavy—it's practically empty." He tossed it from one hand to another to demonstrate.

"I know it is now, but even just having it on my back is uncomfortable at this point."

"Fine." Sherlock slipped the bag over one shoulder. "Let's go poke around in the shops while we wait." 

They spent over an hour browsing the shops, and John's only regret was that he wasn't quick enough with his phone to snap a photo when Rosie convinced Sherlock to try on a hat with Mickey Mouse ears. Sherlock pulled it off his head and put it back on the shelf, then when Rosie turned away, her attention caught by something else, nodded to another version of the hat, this one designed to look like a groom wearing a tuxedo. "What do you think, John? Mrs. Hicks would love to see us in those."

"Oh, God, no," John said. 

Sherlock laughed. "Don't worry. You know how I feel about ear hats."

When they were done in the shops, they had a group photo taken by one of the park photographers, with the castle looming behind them. Then they bought more ice cream, sundaes and cones this time, and found a good spot to view the fireworks. John felt like they had spent most of the day waiting in various queues, so it was nice to sit in one spot and wait for a change. And the fireworks display did not disappoint, although staying to watch it all meant they ended up trying to leave the park at the same time as thousands of other people. 

All four of the girls came very close to nodding off on the bus ride home, and it was nearly eleven o'clock before they got back to their hotel. John stood in the doorway between the rooms, watching to make sure the girls got ready for bed quickly and without fighting over who got their turn in the loo. At least no one seemed to be sunburned—he'd made sure they'd all re-applied their sunblock regularly, and they'd spent more time inside attractions than he'd expected.

When he was sure they were all ready to go to sleep immediately rather than stay up all night talking, he wished them good night and closed the doors between their rooms. Sherlock was sprawled fully dressed on their bed. "My feet hurt," he said, though he was still wearing his shoes.

"Wear your trainers tomorrow," John said, ignoring Sherlock's scowl. "I'm exhausted," he added. "I'm going to shower in the morning. The world won't end if we don't get an early start."

Sherlock chuckled and sat up. "Never thought I'd hear you say that." He kicked off the boat shoes he'd worn all day. John knew the shoes were well-made and broken in, but he'd still insisted Sherlock bring a pair of trainers as well, regardless of how they would look with his tailored shorts.

John grabbed the boxers and vest he'd slept in the night before and went into the loo to change. After he brushed his teeth he rummaged through his toiletry bag until he found the tube of muscle cream he'd packed. It burned a bit initially as he rubbed it across his shoulders, but he knew it would feel better in a few minutes. He pulled the vest on and stretched his arms a few times, trying to loosen the tightness. When he came out of the loo, he apologized for the strong menthol scent of the cream he had used.

"Don't worry about it," Sherlock said. He hadn't moved from his spot on the bed. "How long have you lived with me? I've smelled you before."

John gave him a sheepish grin. "Sorry," he said again, and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

"Do you want to see if my massage technique has improved? I know how to be gentle now."

John laughed. "No, that's all right." Of course he wanted Sherlock to rub his sore muscles, especially now that they were alone and he was wearing very few clothes, but he couldn't trust himself to have quite that much contact and not give his true desires away. "You don't want to get that scent on your hands, trust me, and anyway I took a couple of ibuprofen. Between that and the cream I should be okay by morning."

"Your loss," Sherlock said, flexing his fingers. John looked away and Sherlock let the matter drop. He went into the loo with his pyjamas and John clicked off the light on his side of the bed. It was a good thing they'd spent so many hours in the park today—he had worn himself out enough that he would be able to sleep instead of lying awake thinking about Sherlock's hands on his body. He just hoped he'd be able to continue to suppress thoughts like that once they got back home and everything went back to normal.

Sherlock returned a few minutes later and climbed into bed, fussily arranging the sheet around him. "Today was fun," he said, as he turned off the remaining light.

"Yeah. It was," John replied. He reined in his sudden urge to stretch across the mattress and kiss Sherlock good night. No one was watching; there was no reason for a kiss. Instead he wished Sherlock good night in the same tone he had used with Rosie and her friends, and rolled over so he could go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (FYI, I have given John my own achey shoulders as well as my inability to tolerate rides that spin.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know that there are major changes taking place in Hollywood Studios, with Toy Story Land opening this summer and major updates to the Star Wars section of the park planned for next year, but obviously since they aren't open yet I can't include much about them. If you're reading this after spring of 2018 then please forgive me for leaving them out. :)

The moment John turned off the shower the next morning, he heard Sherlock shouting his name. He had no idea what emergency could have possibly occurred in the ten minutes it had taken him to shower, but he quickly pulled on his clean pants and opened the door. 

Sherlock stood at the sink just outside. He was leaning forward to peer at himself in the mirror and didn't even glance at John as he asked, "Have any of Rosie's friends started wearing makeup yet?"

"What? No, I don't think so." He stepped back into the loo and shower area to grab his shirt and pull it on. "Why?"

Sherlock didn't answer or look away from the mirror, just raised one hand to point at his own face. John frowned and Sherlock said, "Look," and jabbed himself in the nose.

John stepped closer. "What am I looking at?"

"There are seven freckles on my nose."

"Wha—" John could barely make out the faint brown dots Sherlock referred to. He started to laugh.

"It's not funny." Sherlock turned away from the mirror to stare down at John, who had to lean on the countertop he was giggling so hard. "Stop laughing. It's a sign of skin damage—why would you find that funny?"

John shook his head and wiped at his eyes. "You're not burned at all. A few freckles won't hurt you. I've got some." He pushed the sleeve of his polo shirt up to display the spray of freckles across his shoulder.

"Hmm." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. John tried not to flinch as Sherlock inspected his shoulder. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about the brief massage Sherlock had given him yesterday; this seemed nearly as intimate, even though Sherlock wasn't touching him. He let his sleeve fall back into place, sneaking a quick glance in the mirror to make sure the blush he felt wasn't noticeable. 

"Anyway, you don't need to hide your freckles with makeup. They're very faint. If anyone else got close enough to see them, I'd have to punch their lights out for moving in on my husband." He grinned, not letting himself think about how jealous he really had been any time someone had shown any romantic interest in Sherlock in the past, even when they weren't pretending to be a couple. 

Sherlock straightened up, rubbing his hand over the marks on his nose. He nodded at John. "You should finish getting dressed. The girls have been in and out of our room—they're anxious to get to breakfast."

Sherlock joined them at the food court this time, though he spent most of the meal looking at his phone rather than eating or participating in any conversation. John took the last of his bacon and Sherlock didn't even notice. 

"What are you focused so intently on? You look like you've got a case."

Sherlock set his phone down on the table so John could see that he had the Disney app open. Of course. "Hollywood Studios. I've almost got everything set. I'm just trying to get one final FastPass. We've got the Tower of Terror and Star Tours, but I can't get one at a decent time for Toy Story Mania. I keep refreshing the app, hoping some spots open up so we can ride it before the park closes." 

"I do not want to stay until closing again."

"I'm doing my best," Sherlock said, and picked up his phone again. John sighed and went to get some juice from the beverage station. 

When he came back to the table, Sherlock and the girls were picking up their trays. "Come on, John. There's no time to waste. If we get to Hollywood Studios by ten we can ride the Rock 'N Roller Coaster and still make our FastPass window for the Tower of Terror."

John had no idea what either of those things were, but they sounded more interesting than It's a Small World. "So did you get our whole day arranged, then, Mr. Tour Guide?"

"Yes." Sherlock piled John's empty plate on his tray and headed over to the closest rubbish bin, leaving John to trail behind him. "Our times don't match up exactly with the recommendations, but we should be okay." 

They walked back to the hotel room, the girls nearly having to jog to keep up with Sherlock's pace. Once they were in their rooms, Sherlock sat down on the foot of Rosie's bed. He clapped his hands to summon everyone to his side. The girls flocked around him, no doubt expecting some sort of magical Disney surprise.

"Okay. Listen up. This is how it's going to be. We are not lugging a heavy backpack around today." He picked up a container of sun cream. "One tube of sunblock. I will carry it and we will share. And we will not be bringing our own water bottles into the park."

"Sherlock, I appreciate you trying to save my shoulders," John said. "But we need water. My phone says it's going to be 95 degrees today."

"Oh my God," Rosie exclaimed. "That's literally almost boiling!"

"No, sweetie, it's Fahrenheit, not Celsius. But it is hot, and we do need to drink water." 

"Of course we do," Sherlock said. "And I will buy you all as much water in the park as you want, but once I buy you a bottle you are responsible for carrying it yourself."

"Do you know how much water costs in the park?" John asked.

"Yes, I do. But it's American money, which is practically worthless anyway. And just think of what I'm saving by staying in this value hotel." He waved at the small room around them.

"Sherlock."

"I'm serious." He flashed his wallet. "I've got my bank card, and if I somehow hit the spending limit on it, I also have this one." He pulled a card free and twirled it around so John could see.

John squinted at it. "That has your brother's name on it."

"Yes."

"You stole Mycroft's bank card?"

"No, I opened a card in Mycroft's name. He doesn't know it exists, and won't, until he gets the bill."

John suppressed his instinct to burst out laughing, trying to be stern, instead. "Girls, do not follow Sherlock's example. That's fraud. You'll go to prison."

Sherlock leaned forward and lowered his voice, looking at each girl in turn. "If any of you ever go to prison as a result of doing something I taught you, I'll get you out. I know people." He sat back, smiling. "Now, are we ready for Hollywood Studios?"

Once they got there, they again bypassed everything in the front of the park and made a beeline for one of the far corners so they could ride the Rock 'n Roller Coaster. The queue was already forty minutes long, but they only had to stand in the sun for the first few minutes of the wait. The rock 'n roll theme appeared to flummox Sherlock, and he claimed to have never heard of Aerosmith, who provided the music as well as a short video to introduce the attraction, but John wasn't sure if he'd really never heard of the band or if he'd deleted it at some point. It wasn't John's first choice of music, but he didn't object to it, either, and it was certainly a more enjoyable backdrop than most of the music they'd encountered in the Magic Kingdom. 

"This is a real roller coaster, you know," Abby told the others as they got closer to the gates and saw the usual warning signs posted. 

"We've all been on real roller coasters before," Leah said, and Rosie and Chloe agreed, though John was fairly certain that Chloe's first experience on anything approaching a thrill ride had been the relatively tame coasters they'd encountered yesterday. Rosie had ridden some bigger ones before, though the last time they'd been to a park back home she'd been too short to go on the largest. He noticed that as she passed the sign indicating the minimum height for this ride she straightened her posture, even though she was in the clear by a good six inches. He caught her gaze and gave her a thumbs-up; she rolled her eyes at him and scurried to catch up with her friends.

It indeed was a real roller coaster, John realized when they were close enough to see the boarding area. None of the rides they'd been on yesterday had needed over-the-shoulder restraints. He climbed in next to Sherlock and pulled the bar into place; it was mildly uncomfortable but as long as he remembered to keep his neck and shoulders relaxed he figured he would be all right. 

He thought he heard Sherlock let out a yelp of surprise as the car suddenly rocketed forward into the dark, but the music was too loud for him to be sure, and a glance to his side showed Sherlock sitting calmly, fingers wrapped loosely around the restraint's handholds, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were hurtling through the air at sixty miles per hour.

Even though the entire ride was in the dark, John found it much less physically jarring than Space Mountain had been. It was fast and smooth and went upside down through several loops and corkscrews and he loved it—it offered just enough sense of danger to be exhilarating without making him worry about Rosie and her friends being in any real peril. If he'd been alone he would've got right back in the queue to ride it again, but Sherlock was concerned about missing their FastPass window, so they walked over to the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror instead.

The girls had never heard of the Twilight Zone, but even without knowing the background all four of them were at least a little bit spooked by the atmosphere by the time they boarded the ride. They were seated four across with only lap belts to secure them, so John knew it wouldn't be too rough, but he put his arm around Rosie's shoulders and she didn't try to shrug away from him. Once they started to move, she and Chloe gripped each other's hands. 

As it turned out, the anticipation was more frightening than dropping thirteen stories in freefall. There was a chorus of screams the first time they fell, but by the time the ride ended everyone was laughing in relief. After they got through the gift shop and into the sun outside, John could see that both Rosie and Chloe were looking a bit pale from the ordeal, but that simply served as a reminder for them to stop and re-apply their sunblock. They sat on a brick wall outside the Tower to do so.

"John." Sherlock's voice was low and urgent. John turned to see what was wrong. "Did I get it all rubbed in?"

"Er, no, you didn't," John replied. "Got some in front of your ears." Without thinking about it he reached up and rubbed the cream in for him. Out here in the bright sun, the freckles Sherlock had worried about weren't visible at all. And his skin was improbably smooth for someone his age. John stroked his cheekbones a few more times than strictly necessary, then stood up and took a few steps away to discourage Sherlock from looking at his own wrinkled face.

"Where to next?" he asked.

"We don't have another FastPass until later this afternoon, so we can choose whatever we'd like to do," Sherlock said, pulling the park map out of his back pocket.

"What? You've failed to schedule the entire day?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. "This park has fewer rides than the Magic Kingdom. There are a number of different shows, but none seemed particularly appealing to me when I was planning so I thought we could decide as the day went on. You could have helped me plan but you were too busy eating breakfast."

Sherlock handed him a list of shows and times and John began to read them off before realizing that the girls were divided in their interests. Chloe wanted to see all the shows that involved princesses: Beauty and the Beast, Frozen, the Little Mermaid. Rosie and Abby were willing to do anything and Leah didn't want to watch any shows at all. But Sherlock was right—there weren't that many rides so they would definitely have time to catch at least one show. "All right," he said, aware that his decision probably wasn't going to appeal to a bunch of tween girls. "We're going to watch the Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular."

"Sorry, which show?" Sherlock said.

"Indiana Jones."

"Which is...?"

"Oh, don't give me that. You know who Indiana Jones is. You like Indiana Jones. Harrison Ford?"

"It's as if you're speaking a foreign language, John."

"Dickhead. Come on. We'll have to hurry to make the next performance."

They almost didn't make it, because they passed a Starbucks along the way and Sherlock insisted on stopping to buy everyone a water and himself an iced coffee because he'd refused to drink from the refillable station in the hotel that morning. 

When they finally made it to the open-air theater that housed the stunt show, they managed to grab some of the last few seats available. Sherlock sat at the end of the row and lounged back against the metal bench, one foot stuck out into the aisle, giving the impression that he had no interest at all in what was happening onstage. 

Maybe he really didn't. It was basically a half-hour live demonstration of film stunts, and John had no reason to believe that Sherlock was particularly interested in that sort of thing. Though he did know that he liked the films. When John had shown the first one to Rosie a couple of years ago, Sherlock had joined them and continued to watch the whole series with barely a critical comment at all. Of course the character would appeal to Sherlock—Indiana Jones was a man of action who ran headlong into danger but was also highly-educated and intelligent. John would have ventured to say that Sherlock had a crush on him, if he thought Sherlock ever had crushes. John himself had long understood his own feelings for the character. He'd been in his late teens when the third film had come out, old enough to admit that the attraction he felt was based on more than just wanting to be like Indiana Jones himself.

After the show ended they had lunch at a pizza place, then headed over to the Star Wars section of the park, which was what John personally had been looking forward to. He knew Rosie was embarrassed when he made her take pictures of him posing next to R2-D2 and BB-8, but he didn't care. He liked Star Wars more than anything else owned by Disney and he was going to enjoy it while they were here. 

He did enjoy it, until about thirty seconds into the Star Tours ride, when he discovered that spinning was not the only motion that made him sick. They were sitting in large cars that barely moved, just tilted and bounced slightly while an immersive 3-D film played on the screen in front of them. It was made to appear as if the audience was on a spaceship, and once the ship launched, dodging between other ships and blasting through hyperspace, his stomach began to lurch and churn. Oh, God, why had he had so many toppings on his pizza? He took off the 3-D glasses and closed his eyes. It didn't get any worse, but the damage was already done and he spent the next seven minutes trying to block out the blaring sounds and choppy movements of the rest of the ride. 

When it was over it took forever to get out of the attraction—they had to walk down a long hall and then they were herded through a large gift shop, which normally he didn't even mind, but it was too bright and busy and there was music and small unsupervised children with lightsabers who needed to be dodged. Outside wasn't any better. He raised his hand against the sun, letting the girls and Sherlock walk ahead without him.

"John?" Sherlock turned around and came back to him. "Are you all right?" 

"Not really. I need to sit down for a minute." He frowned at the closest benches. "In the shade."

Sherlock stared at him for the moment, then closed his right hand gently around John's left wrist and led him across the walkway to an umbrella-shaded table. John was pretty sure it was meant to be seating for people eating at the restaurant next to it, but he didn't really care at the moment. 

"You were fine on the roller coaster this morning," Sherlock said, as John sat down gingerly at the table, keeping his movements as controlled as possible to minimize any further discomfort. "This barely moved in comparison." 

"I know, I know. It was actually just the visuals." He almost started to explain how the information his brain received from his eyes conflicted with the lack of movement detected by his inner ears, causing nausea, but Sherlock would say that he knew that already and anyway John didn't want to think about it anymore. 

Sherlock paused for several seconds and John tried to convince himself to drag himself to his feet so they could continue on with the day's itinerary, but then Sherlock sprang to life, pointing at him and motioning to all of the girls in turn. "You stay right here. Rosie, stay with him. Give him some of your water. The rest of you, come with me." He pulled out his phone and began typing as he walked. Rosie sat down and the other girls followed Sherlock away without question.

John didn't even ask where Sherlock was going. He took a careful sip of Rosie's water. He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't likely to vomit, but he felt horrible and didn't want to move ever again, much less go on any more rides. Being able to lie down back in the room would've been delightful, but since that would involve walking across the park in the heat, waiting for a bus and then riding it all the way back to the hotel, just sitting here would have to suffice. 

"You want me to go get you something to eat?" Rosie asked, nodding toward the restaurant they were sitting by.

"God, no," John said with a groan, then tried to smile at her. "Sorry. I'll be all right in a bit. Just need to let everything settle for a few minutes. Thanks for sitting with me."

"No problem," Rosie said with a shrug and pulled out her phone. 

John put his head down on his arms and waited to feel better. After a while Abby, Chloe and Leah returned with an unopened bottle of cold water. 

"Dr. Watson, here, Sherlock said to give you this." Abby set the water down on the table in front of him. "He's trying to get some medicine but he can't find any in the gift shops. We found out where the first aid station is but he thinks you won't want to go there."

"He's right. I don't need first aid. I just need to sit and not look at anything moving. But thanks for the water."

"Sherlock said he would break his rule and carry it for you if you want him to once you're feeling better." 

"Where is he?" John twisted in his seat, looking around, but he couldn't spot him anywhere in the vicinity.

"He said he had to get something else and sent us back here."

John wrinkled his nose and decided it was probably fine that Sherlock had let the girls come back on their own, though he didn't need to waste his time scouring the shops for anti-nausea medicine. He pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock, asking him to come back.

Sherlock didn't respond, and about fifteen minutes passed before he reappeared. John didn't really feel too much better by that point, though the cold water bottle was useful as a cool compress. "Where'd you go?"

"I had to go back over to the Tower of Terror to meet up with Lindsey Dunn's mum." 

"Why?"

"Because we sat behind her on the plane and she had these in her handbag." He dropped a handful of wrapped peppermints onto the table.

John looked up at him and Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "They should help settle your stomach."

"Sweets!" Rosie reached for one.

Sherlock put his hand over the pile. "They're for your father."

"I don't need more than one or two. I hope." John unwrapped one of them and popped it into his mouth.

"Why do you want sweets if you're feeling sick?" Rosie asked.

"Peppermint is good for an upset stomach." Sherlock sat down next to her at the table. "When your mum was pregnant with you, sweets like these were the only thing that helped."

Rosie didn't respond to that, other than by taking one of the mints and passing three more to her friends, but John knew that she was listening, and would remember. She was always eager for any anecdote about Mary, and John was glad Sherlock was able to come up with a story she hadn't heard before, especially one innocuous enough to be shared in public.

He sucked on the mint, resisting the urge to chew it immediately. It did help, though he still didn't feel up to doing any more rides. "What else do we have planned for today?"

Sherlock opened the Disney app on his phone. "We've got Toy Story Mania in ninety minutes. I thought—I had previously thought that we could head over to Toy Story Land now, because there are a couple of smaller rides we could do while we wait, but now I think we should just try to take in another show or two instead." 

"Beauty and the Beast!" said Chloe. 

"I don't want to watch any more shows," Leah said. "Plus it's all dumb princess stuff anyway."

"There's a Muppets film," Sherlock said, running his finger down the list of attractions. "But it's 3-D, so maybe not."

"Please, no," John said, though when he shook his head it didn't make him feel ill so that was definitely progress. "I don't want to keep you from going on rides. Just go ahead without me."

"We're not going to leave you sitting here."

"I'll come with you and find a shady spot to sit over there."

Sherlock looked skeptical and John pushed aside a small surge of annoyance at how much he was being coddled. "How about I take Chloe to see Beauty and the Beast and the rest of you can go on the other rides and then we'll meet later?"

Rosie ended up joining John and Chloe; in addition to the Beauty and the Beast live-action show, they went to a Frozen singalong, which was not quite as unpleasant as his stomachache, though it was a close call. At least the theater didn't spin or bounce.

When they met up with Sherlock and Abby and Leah again outside of Toy Story Mania, John decided he would sit it out, despite Abby's declaration that it was her favorite ride in this park. His stomach was fine by then, but he wanted to keep it that way. Plus, it was apparently another ride that involved target shooting, and he didn't want to have to hear Sherlock complaining when he lost again. 

There weren't any free benches nearby, but the buildings offered plenty of shade so John sat on the ground across from the ride's entrance, his back against the wall. 

Sherlock left with the girls, but a minute later he returned alone, taking a seat on the ground next to John. John raised an eyebrow in question.

"I walked them to the FastPass entrance and made sure they went in. They'll be fine on their own and we'll be able to see them when they come out." 

John wasn't really worried about the girls; they were certainly safer here than wandering around on their own through London. He was surprised Sherlock would skip this ride, though. "Don't you want to shoot things?"

"It's not as fun without you there for me to beat."

"Oh, you wouldn't beat me."

"Those sensors were faulty in the Buzz Lightyear ride yesterday. I would have beaten you."

John smiled, resting his head against the building behind him. Sitting there, sweating in the heat, sharing a warm bottle of water with Sherlock, who was close enough that their shoulders were touching—it was nice. It wasn't exactly the same as being married, like they were pretending, but it was still nice. And when Rosie and her friends were done, she would come outside and look for him and Sherlock, because Sherlock was just as much her parent as John was, and had been for a long time. John sighed and told himself that being able to lean his head on Sherlock's shoulder really wouldn't make his life perfect; things were fine the way they were right now.

When the girls were done, they all went back to the hotel for dinner. Most of their class was eating in the food court at the same time, and from the conversations John overheard it seemed like nearly everyone planned to go for a swim after the meal, which sounded like an excellent idea.

They went back to their rooms to change. John was debating whether he should wear a t-shirt with his swim trunks when someone knocked on their door. Not one of the girls—it was the door to the hallway, not the one connecting the two rooms. Sherlock was in the loo changing, so he answered it himself.

"Dr. Watson. Good, I was hoping you'd be in." Mrs. Hicks smiled at him, though she looked exhausted and her cheeks were flush with sunburn. "Do you have a few minutes to spare?"

"Er, sure, I guess. What's up?"

"There's a boy on the floor below this one who's um, feeling poorly and we were wondering if you might take a look at him?"

John suppressed a sigh. Unpaid medical assistance: not exactly what he wanted to be doing while on holiday. But he remembered how he'd felt himself this afternoon, and imagined being eleven years old and in a foreign country while feeling sick. At least John had had Sherlock to look after him. "Sure, I'll see what I can do for him. Hang on, just let me tell Sherlock and Rosie where I'm going."

Mrs. Hicks led him down to the room of the boy who was ill. He had holed up in the loo, and it took John and the mum who was in charge of him a little while to coax him out. After a brief examination John was confident that the boy's problem was that he'd eaten nothing but bacon, hotdogs and ice cream for the past two days. Homesickness and the embarrassment of being sick in front of his friends had exacerbated the situation, but there was nothing serious wrong with him. John found him an electric heating pad that one of the chaperones had brought and made him promise to eat some fruits and grains for breakfast.

After the boy was sorted, Mrs. Hicks mentioned that a number of kids and a few chaperones had been badly sunburned, and would he mind just quickly checking to make sure none of them needed medical attention? John agreed, of course, and texted Sherlock that he and the girls should go over to the pool without him and he would join them when he could.

He made a run back to the hotel gift shop to get a few bottles of aloe vera and distributed them amongst the rooms with the people who had the worst burns. The most serious case was a girl who'd worn a spaghetti-strapped camisole while walking around the Magic Kingdom; her shoulders were blistered but she wasn't feverish or in severe pain, so John counseled her to stay hydrated and keep the burned skin covered for the rest of the week. He made sure that everyone had adequate sunblock and knew how often to apply it, but before he could escape back to his own room, word apparently spread that he was willing to handle minor medical emergencies and he found himself treating several blisters caused by kids wearing sandals, a boy with a rash that looked like an allergic reaction but no one had any idea what may have triggered it, and one mum with a twisted ankle that he was sure wasn't broken, though the swelling was impressive. He wrapped it for her and gave her some pain relievers, though he didn't think she would follow his advice to hire a wheelchair or scooter when she went into the parks the next day. 

By the time he was done seeing everyone who was in need of medical reassurance, it was after nine. He hoped Sherlock had had the sense to bring the girls back from the pool and have them start to get ready for bed rather than waiting for him to join them. He rolled his shoulders and neck as he walked back to their rooms. Maybe once the girls were settled he might see if Sherlock's offer of a neck massage was still good. It wasn't too sore today, but it would be a nice way to unwind after a long day.

Or maybe he shouldn't let Sherlock rub his shoulders if he didn't really need it. Maybe that would be taking advantage of the situation. Sherlock didn't seem to mind, but that didn't mean John wasn't still taking advantage of him. Or maybe he should allow himself to enjoy the opportunity while he could. In a few days the holiday would be over, and Sherlock wouldn't be offering to touch him in front of an audience anymore, much less when they were alone.

He reached the girls' room and tapped on the door, but heard no response, so he pressed his wristband to the scanner. The lock snicked open and he turned the knob, peeking in to find the room in darkness, though he could see the shapes of the girls in their beds. Possibly they were all faking sleep, but that was good enough for him, as long as they were quiet and didn't bother him and Sherlock.

He left the girls as they were and continued down the hall to his room, taking less care to be quiet now, but when he opened the door, it was to find Sherlock stretched out on the bed, sound asleep. All of the lights were on and the telly was tuned to the channel that played adverts for the parks on an endlessly peppy loop, though the volume had been muted. 

John expected him to wake up when he came in, but Sherlock didn't stir, so John turned off the telly and most of the lights and gathered up his clothes to change. Sherlock was already dressed for bed, so John left him as he was; he still hadn't moved when John came back out of the loo. 

John switched off the final light and slipped into bed next to him. Sherlock had fallen asleep on top of the covers, but a bit of gentle nudging got him to move enough so John could straighten the sheet over the both of them. He hadn't planned to turn in quite so early, but now that he was in it, the bed was cool and inviting. He sighed and wriggled a bit closer to Sherlock than he had been the night before. No massage tonight, which was probably for the best, anyway, but he'd forgotten how nice it was just to have someone sleeping in bed next to him. He would miss it, once they were back home in London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't expect the Indiana Jones stunt show to still be around in 10 years, but as someone who grew up in the '80s and is attracted to men, I felt compelled to include it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a number of liberties with the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique in this chapter, including how easy it is to get a reservation, but please bear with me for the sake of the story. :)

The next morning was the first day all week that John woke to find Sherlock already up and out of bed. He stretched and rolled into the middle of the mattress, glancing across the room to where Sherlock sat at the small table. The Disney guidebooks were stacked by his elbow, but he was looking at his phone, instead.

"Which park are we doing today?" John asked.

"None. It's our day off."

"Really?" 

"Well, we have shopping and swimming planned, but no parks." Sherlock clicked off his phone and slipped it into his pocket as he stood. "Last night at the pool a few of the other chaperones shared their plans for today, and the girls and I decided to go along with the crowd." He let out an overly-dramatic sigh. "My understanding is that occasionally following the crowd can be a healthy and important choice at Rosie's age."

John smiled and sat up. A day spent at the pool and shops sounded fine to him, regardless of what the rest of Rosie's class was doing. He climbed out of bed but before he made it to the loo, someone rapped on the door between the rooms. He pulled it open to find Rosie on the other side, holding her phone and grinning.

"Ah, Rosie." Sherlock stepped around John, effectively pushing him out of the way without actually touching him. "Did you get a reservation?"

"Yep. Eleven o'clock."

"Two spots?

Rosie nodded.

"Nice. Don't tell your father how much it costs."

"I'm standing right here," John said. He elbowed Sherlock aside. "What do you have two reservations for?"

"Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique," Rosie said. "But you only have to pay for me because Chloe brought her own money."

John frowned, trying to recall why that sounded familiar. "Is that the princess salon we saw in the Magic Kingdom? We're not going back there."

"There's one in Disney Springs, too. And Chloe really, really wants to do it, so I said I would go with her so she wouldn't be alone. Leah and Abby think it's for babies, but it goes up to age twelve so clearly it's not."

John scratched at his head and yawned. "Disney Springs is the shopping place, yeah?" 

Rosie nodded. John didn't really think she had much interest in being made up as a princess, but he wasn't surprised that Chloe would want to, and it wouldn't hurt to let Rosie go with her. If it cost too much he could always let Sherlock pay, since he had obviously given Rosie permission to make the reservations while John was asleep. 

After breakfast they took a bus over to Disney Springs, which, in addition to selling the expected Disney merchandise, proved home to a number of name-brand retailers offering their own selection of products. John and Sherlock spent some time browsing with the girls; they'd been in the shops in the Magic Kingdom, but hadn't bought anything before now. Rosie's friends all picked out Disney trinkets for their parents and siblings—Mickey Mouse seemed to be the common theme, though none of the girls had up until now shown much interest in the character. John knew he personally wouldn't want a travel mug or tea towel covered in mouse heads, but he let the girls select whatever they wanted to as gifts. 

He had already decided that Mrs. Hudson would appreciate something from the duty-free shop more than anything on offer here in Disney, and Sherlock had no intention of buying souvenirs for anyone in his family, so they didn't have much shopping of their own to do. John ventured into Goofy's Candy Company to pick up some sweets to take back for his co-workers at the surgery, but when the girls followed him in and attempted to pool their money to see how much sugar they could purchase, he bought the first box of saltwater taffy he saw and escorted everyone back outside. 

When it was time for the appointment at Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique, Sherlock volunteered to take Rosie and Chloe while John and the other girls continued to shop. 

"Are you sure?" John couldn't really imagine him waiting patiently while Rosie and Chloe got made up like princesses, but he also knew that if Sherlock was left to shop unsupervised, he might end up being as impulsive as the girls in the candy shop.

"Of course I'm sure," Sherlock replied and led Rosie and Chloe off to their appointment.

Abby and Leah wanted to go to a store that sold scented beauty products, which to John's mind wasn't too far removed from getting a princess makeover, though he refrained from pointing that out. He stood by and tried not to breathe as they mixed their own bath salt combinations and when they were done he didn't feel bad about making them wait while he checked out a kiosk that sold merchandise designed exclusively for left-handed people.

It was too hot to stand outside for long, so they headed back to see if Rosie and Chloe were done with their makeovers. As they approached the building, the door to the salon opened and Rosie and Chloe spilled out, laughing, their arms around each other's shoulders. Unlike some of the smaller girls John had seen coming out of the boutique, they weren't wearing princess dresses, but instead had on matching t-shirts and pink sashes across their chests. Chloe's hair was in a tight bun topped with a small tiara, while Rosie had her hair pulled back but still loose around her shoulders, with several pink and purple extensions woven through it. To John's eye she looked more like a sanitized tween version of a rock star than a princess, but she seemed happy with the style. Both girls were wearing more makeup than he really wanted to see on them; he knew he'd have to get used to that eventually, but he hoped he had a few more years to go.

The girls paused outside the door, stepping apart. Chloe spotted John and the others and waved but Rosie glanced back over her shoulder, presumably looking for Sherlock. A moment later and the door opened again and Sherlock emerged into the sunlight.

"Oh, my God." John stopped walking. "What—what?" He couldn't complete the question, because he was immediately overcome by a fit of giggles. He tried to hold them back, but it was a lost cause. 

Sherlock had been given a makeover in the boutique, as well. A pirate makeover. He was wearing a tricorn hat with a black and red bandanna under it. The hair that stuck out from beneath the bandanna was straighter and greasier than John had ever seen it before, and had brightly-colored plastic beads threaded through it.

"Shut up." Sherlock walked toward them, lifting his chin. "They had a free spot, and I didn't want the girls to feel singled out." 

"That's not what happened," Rosie said. 

Sherlock waved his hand to shush her, and John noticed a detail he'd somehow missed at first glance. "Did they draw stubble on your face?"

Sherlock brought a hand up to his cheek. "Even you couldn't grow a beard in the space of an hour, John."

John squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying make himself stop laughing. "I'm going to take a picture."

"Go right ahead. We've already had our photos taken in the salon."

"I’m going to put it up on the blog."

Sherlock shrugged. "Potential clients will see that I really am a master of disguise."

John pulled out his phone and snapped a quick succession of photos. He wouldn't really put them on the blog, but he was definitely going to text one of them to a good portion of his contact list. He got Rosie and Chloe to pose for him as well, pleased to see how happy they both were with the attention. "Girls, you both look beautiful," he told them. Chloe curtsied and giggled and Rosie flashed a peace sign at him.

Sherlock started to walk along the path through the marketplace and John fell into step next to him, stealing sideways glances when he thought Sherlock wasn't paying attention. The pirate look actually suited him, now that John had a few seconds to get used to it. He touched Sherlock's arm to catch his attention. "I'm sorry for laughing at you, but it was quite a surprise. I thought they only went up to age twelve?"

"They do," Chloe said. "And also they don't do pirate makeovers. You have to go to the Pirate League in the Magic Kingdom for that."

"Then how—"

Sherlock shrugged. "Disney magic."

"He was talking to one of the women who was working there, and she kept giggling a lot, and then he just talked her into it," Chloe said.

"I did not talk her into it! She volunteered!"

Rosie rolled her eyes. "He had three different women all doing his hair at once. It was kind of disgusting. I told them he was married but they still didn't stop."

John chuckled. He'd certainly seen Sherlock flirt with women often enough when he needed something for a case, and he could imagine him doing it in order to get his way today. It was usually amusing to watch, though John was probably better able than Rosie to tell that Sherlock was just pretending. He'd never seen Sherlock flirt with a woman for real. Or a man. In fact the idea was so unimaginable that John wasn't even sure what it would look like.

After a few more shops, Rosie announced that she was starving and they found a sandwich place that looked promising. The girls made their selections and went to find a table while John and Sherlock stood in the queue to order. As they waited, John found himself looking at Sherlock again. The drawn-on stubble was ridiculous, but somehow Sherlock managed to make everything else seem much more natural than it should have. One of the beads tied into his hair was shaped like a tiny skull—of course it looked natural on him. 

Sherlock noticed him staring. "Go ahead and tease me about looking silly if you want. I don't care. I've seen plenty of other silly-looking people here."

"No, that's not it," John said. "I mean, maybe you look a little silly but we're in Disney World so I think that's rather expected. I was just thinking that you look...happy."

Sherlock blinked at him for a moment, then recovered, narrowing his eyes. "Don't you go telling anyone that nonsense. People will talk, and I have a reputation to uphold."

After lunch they went back to the hotel. It took some time for everyone to get changed into their swimsuits, especially given that Chloe and Rosie didn't want to mess up their hair. Sherlock washed the stubble off his face and removed the hat and bandanna but otherwise left his hair as it was, half-straightened and decorated with beads. He emerged from the loo wearing a pair of blue swim trunks and a matching Spandex swim shirt—John had seen them drying in the bathroom last night, but he hadn't seen him wear them before now. It was an impressive sight, especially for a man pushing fifty. John wasn't sure how he kept his chest so muscled, given that he never saw him do any exercise. Did he work out every morning after John left for the surgery?

He changed into his own swim trunks. He didn't have a swim shirt so he kept his t-shirt on, instead. He'd probably take it off when he went into the pool, but there was no reason to subject everyone else to the spectacle of his late-middle-aged chest until then.

He made everyone carry their own towels, but somehow he still ended up lugging a full duffel bag down to the pool—it held goggles, their refillable plastic mugs, one of Sherlock's guidebooks, his own paperback mystery novel that he hadn't touched since the plane and a variety of other items that he was sure no one would actually use once they started to swim.

The pool was shaped like a large flower, deepest in the center and more shallow at the edges, and was fairly crowded at this time of day. There were lifeguards on duty, and all of the girls could swim, but John still watched them as they splashed and giggled their way into the water, Rosie and Chloe trying their best to keep their fancy hairdos dry. A few of the mums from their school had gathered at the side of the pool—one of them gave him a little smile and wave. John lifted his hand in response and then turned away. At least he hadn't had to deal with anyone's mum flirting with him on this trip. 

There weren't very many available lounge chairs, but Sherlock had managed to find one, at least. He was putting sunblock on his arms when John walked over to him, dropping the bag and his own towel on the ground beside the chair.

Sherlock looked up. "Want me to do your back for you?"

"I'm wearing a t-shirt."

"Not in the water, you're not," Sherlock said. 

"No, I suppose not." John twitched the hem of the shirt but didn't remove it.

"Come on, get it off." Sherlock swung his leg over his chair so he straddled it and patted the plastic seat in front of him.

The day had grown cloudy since this morning, but John knew he still needed to use sunblock. He pulled his shirt off and sat down, trying not to compare himself to Sherlock. He might not be the most fit man at the pool, but he certainly wasn't the least fit, either. It wasn't as if anyone were looking at him, anyway, he reminded himself. 

The lotion was cool but Sherlock's hands were warm as he rubbed it across John's back and shoulders. Not quite a massage, but he couldn't deny he liked the feeling of Sherlock's hands on his skin. Sherlock spread the cream efficiently, which meant he was done too quickly, though he gave John's shoulders an extra squeeze when he was finished. "Your neck is tense again. Need me to do your front?"

"No, I think I can manage." He was pretty sure Sherlock was joking, but he also thought he'd heard a bit of innuendo in his voice, even though no one else was close enough to hear him. John made an effort to relax his shoulders and neck and slid forward on the chair, so he was no longer sitting between Sherlock's thighs.

"All right." The lounge chair shifted against the concrete pool deck as Sherlock stood up. "I'm going in."

"Did you get the back of your neck and your face?"

"Yep." 

"Your ears?"

"Yes, Dr. Watson." Sherlock stretched his arms once across his front and back, then strode across the concrete. John watched him as he bypassed the steps into the pool and slipped in over the edge—the water there just barely covered his waist. 

John dragged his attention away from Sherlock so he could continue applying his own sun cream. As he finished his legs he heard an ominous rumbling sound. Thunder? He lifted his head and listened, noted the closest lifeguard doing the same. The clouds overhead did seem darker than they had a few minutes ago. A few seconds later there was another crack of thunder, unmistakable this time, and all the lifeguards began to blow their whistles, evacuating the pool.

Rosie and her friends, dripping wet and shouting about the thunder, rushed over to where John sat. Sherlock followed right behind them, repeating the lifeguards' injunctions not to run, which were ignored by the girls and nearly every other child John could see. 

"We should go inside until the storm passes," Sherlock said, when the girls had sorted out their towels and beach sandals. He nodded at the building behind them, which was home to the hotel's food court. "Unless you'd rather go back to our rooms."

"Everyone else is going to go get snacks. Let's go with them," Leah said, pointing at a group of boys that John recognized, though he didn't know any of their names. 

"Everyone else," said Chloe. "You just mean Mason Lewis."

"Shut up, Chloe."

Chloe smirked and Abby giggled, while Rosie just sighed. "Yeah, let's go get some food. It'll probably be a quick storm again." There had been rain both previous afternoons they'd been here, but the storms had passed by entirely while they were inside attractions at the parks. They only knew about them because they'd come outside to find the ground wet.

As John gathered up their belongings, the rain let loose, drenching them immediately. They all ran toward the building, along with dozens of other people who had been at the pool. Once inside, they paused to shake themselves off and pull on t-shirts or cover-ups over their suits before heading into the food court.

The girls grabbed their mugs from John's bag and went over to the beverage station en masse. John shook his head when he saw that the group of boys they'd mentioned before was there as well. At least it wasn't Rosie who was interested in them yet, as far as he knew.

He and Sherlock went over to the bakery section of the food court and picked out a few varieties of pastries and cake for everyone to share. None of the girls were particularly fussy about what they ate, especially when it came to baked goods.

By the time they paid for the food, the girls were no longer at the beverage station. John looked around until he spotted them at a table in the corner. As he got close he saw that for once they were not on their phones, but were all leaning forward, heads close together, as if deep in discussion with each other. When he and Sherlock approached, Rosie whipped her head up and pushed back her chair, standing up, arm outstretched. "Dad!" she hissed. "Not now!"

"Sorry, what?" He stopped walking, holding the tray full of food in front of him.

Sherlock continued past him. He glanced at the girls, then over his shoulder, scanning the rest of the restaurant. His eyes narrowed and he turned back to address Leah. "Want me to go take care of him for you?"

"What is going on?" John asked, and Leah burst into tears.

A few confused minutes later and all six of them were seated around the table, sharing cake and brownies while the girls took turns recounting the saga of Leah and Mason and their extremely short-lived romance. John didn't remember anything quite so dramatic ever happening when he was eleven, but he was proud of how all the girls rallied around to support Leah, even Chloe, who a few minutes ago had been teasing her about Mason.

"Don't worry about him," Chloe said. "He sounds like a duck when he laughs and he's absolutely not worth it."

"Yeah," Rosie said. "And anyway, first crushes never work out. Right, Dad?"

"Hmm?" John had never discussed crushes of any sort with Rosie, but it was nice that she was looking to him for advice now. "Yeah, I think it's pretty rare for a first crush to last. They're mostly just for practice."

Abby nodded and patted Leah's hand where it rested on the table. "You'll do better than Mason someday. Just like Dr. Watson did better than his first crush when he met Sherlock."

John almost choked on his cake. He took a long sip from his mug, but when he finished all the girls were still staring at him, waiting for a response. So much for Rosie's friends not thinking he and Sherlock were a couple, it seemed.

"Right, Dr. Watson?"

"Er, yes. My first crush was...yeah, it was a long time ago but it didn't work out."

Rosie narrowed her eyes at him. "Who was it?"

John frowned back at her. "Annie Collins. I was twelve and she was a year ahead of me in school. I'm not sure she ever even knew I existed, now that I think about it."

Leah wiped at her eyes. "Your first crush was a girl?" 

"Um, yeah." 

"He's liked lots of girls," Rosie said. "My mum was a girl. It's called being bisexual."

John could feel his face heating up. He didn't recall ever telling Rosie that he was bisexual—mainly because he never really told anyone that—and he definitely hadn't signed on to explain the concept to any of Rosie's friends.

"Who was your first boy crush?" Leah asked. "Was it Sherlock?" 

All right, that was enough. "Er, no, it wasn't." He used his fork to push the plate of cake he'd been eating toward Rosie. "Did everyone try this one? It's brilliant. The filling's got raspberry in it."

Rosie took the bait—or the cake, at least—but the other girls were not distracted. "What about you, Sherlock?" Leah asked. "Who was your first crush?"

John thought for sure that Sherlock would avoid the question, but instead he steepled his fingers beneath his chin and answered her. "You have to understand, Leah, that I tend to delete any unpleasant experiences that I have, so I don't have to waste my time thinking about them ever again. So while I'm sure that I did have crushes on people before I met John, he's the only one that I happen to recall."

"Awww!" Chloe exclaimed, and pushed an empty plate out of the way so she could lean her elbows on the table. "That is the sweetest thing I have ever heard."

"You liked Irene Adler well enough," John said.

"I found her interesting," Sherlock replied.

"And Moriarty," John muttered under his breath. Apparently he had seen Sherlock flirt for real before, now that he thought about it.

Sherlock widened his eyes and cocked his head at him. "I would never—"

"Never mind," John said. "I think it's stopped raining. Everyone ready to go back out to the pool?" He wasn't sure why hearing Sherlock talk about his romantic interests made him even more uncomfortable than discussing his own, but it no doubt was tangled up in the fact that he knew Sherlock was only pretending.

The sun was shining again when they got back outside. There were plenty of available lounge chairs now, although they were wet from the storm. John pushed a couple close together and used the edge of one of the towels to dry them off, then piled all of their gear on top. He nodded hello to Mrs. Hicks as she arrived with the girls she was chaperoning; the group of boys who had caused so much heartache a few minutes earlier was nowhere in sight, thankfully. 

"Dr. Watson." Mrs. Hicks paused on her way toward the pool. "I'd be happy to watch the girls for you now if you two newlyweds would like some time alone." She smiled; John was surprised she didn't wink at him, as well. 

He tried to return her grin, then gestured toward the pool, where Sherlock was already in the water. "Thanks, but we've actually been looking forward to swimming this afternoon." 

"Oh, you never did make it down here to the pool last night, did you?"

He shook his head. "Today's my first chance."

"All right. Well, let me know if you change your mind." She continued on to the pool, leaving John alone by the chairs. He stood there for a moment, watching as the girls swam out together to the center of the pool, Rosie and Chloe both dog-paddling so they could keep their hair out of the water.

Sherlock had no such qualms. He dunked his whole body under the water, then surfaced, shaking his hair out of his face. John caught his eye and Sherlock grinned, then swam back toward him. John watched, wishing he himself could look as smooth and powerful as Sherlock did as he cut through the water.

Sherlock stood up when he reached the edge of the pool and leaned his hands on the deck, angling himself toward John. "You look fine," he called out. "Stop comparing yourself to others and get in the water."

John raised an eyebrow and then pulled his shirt off over his head and crossed to sit at the edge of the pool next to Sherlock. "Don't deduce me while we're on holiday." He dangled his feet into the water, then slipped all the way in without hesitation. The water was warm but cooler than the air; the thunderstorm hadn't done much to lower the day's temperature.

"You love it when I deduce you," Sherlock said.

John would've sworn that it sounded like he was flirting. Pretend-flirting, of course. Well, two could play at that game. After all, Sherlock was better than him at a great many things, but he could not out-flirt John. "Oh, yeah?" John raised his eyebrows and licked at his bottom lip. "Then what am I thinking now?" 

Sherlock stared at him, and John had a brief moment of panic where he thought maybe Sherlock really could tell what he was thinking, which was, _God he looks so good in that tight, wet shirt_. But then Sherlock smirked and said, "You're thinking that you're a faster swimmer than I am. You're wrong."

John laughed in relief. "Wrong, am I? Then let's race." 

"Okay." Sherlock turned, surveying the pool. There were still far fewer swimmers than there had been before the storm—less than a dozen small clusters of people, half of them students or parents from their school group. Sherlock pointed past Rosie and her friends. "Straight across, to the far end of the petal opposite us." 

"Go!" John shouted, and took off, swimming as fast as he could for the far side of the pool. He caught Sherlock by surprise enough to get ahead by a body length, but the pool was sufficiently large that Sherlock was able to catch him by the time they reached the middle, and despite John's best effort, beat him to the wall.

John planted his feet on the pool bottom and stood, gasping, as Sherlock straightened up, preening as water cascaded from his hair.

"Cheater," John said.

"Me?" Sherlock was breathing just as heavily, which was gratifying, at least. "You started with no warning."

"You're five years younger and have longer arms and legs. That's cheating." John turned around, leaning back against the edge of the pool for support.

Sherlock turned as well, and John thought he was about to swim away, but then he turned back so they were facing each other once more. "There are quite a number of people watching us," he murmured.

John grinned up at him. "We did put on quite a show." 

"Hmm." Sherlock pushed his hair back from his brow; John saw the skull charm bob just above his right ear. "People do like a show," he said, and before John could interpret his tone, Sherlock leaned down and kissed him.

John was too stunned to react for a moment. An act, just an act. For all the people watching them. He inhaled sharply against Sherlock's lips, still short of breath, and then, before Sherlock could pull away, John leaned forward and kissed him back. He put his hands gently above Sherlock's hips and kissed him back. He felt Sherlock tense at the added contact and thought maybe he had taken it too far, but after a split-second Sherlock brought his own hands up, his fingertips grazing John's chest before settling on his shoulders. John let himself melt into the touch for a moment, then pulled back, breaking off the kiss. Without lifting his head he shot a quick glance up at Sherlock's face, trying to gauge his reaction, but Sherlock was too fast for him. He turned his back to John, slouching down into the water and swimming away without saying a word. 

John watched him go, despite the impulse to swim after him, to grab him by the arm and force him to stop and ask him what had just happened. Was it really all an act, part of their story that they were a married couple? Because it hadn't felt like it. John had kissed quite a few people, and this kiss had felt real. 

He glanced around at the rest of the pool. Sherlock had said a lot of people were watching them, but if that had been true at the time, it wasn't any longer. Mrs. Hicks was sitting on the side of the pool with two other chaperones. If she had seen the kiss, she would probably say something to John the next time they spoke. He resolved to stay away from her for as long as possible. Rosie and her friends had paddled away and were lounging on one of the sets of steps into the water. Had Rosie seen them kiss? She knew that they were pretending—it was mostly her fault, in fact—but he didn't know what she'd think if she saw them actually being intimate with each other. Hell, he didn't even know what he thought himself.

They stayed at the pool for a couple more hours, though John himself didn't spend much time swimming. He put on his t-shirt and a hat and some sunglasses and sat in one of the chairs, trying to read his book but failing to make much progress through the mystery. Sherlock stayed in the water for most of the time, horsing around with the girls and occasionally swimming on his own. John watched him, his strokes gracefully cutting through the water seemingly without effort, and tried not to think about jumping in and chasing him for another kiss.

The rest of the evening passed in a bit of a blur for John. He kept catching himself looking at Sherlock and remembering what his lips felt like, wondering what would have happened if he had stepped even closer and pressed his whole body up against Sherlock's...no. Just an act. Sherlock certainly wasn't dwelling on it. He seemed completely unruffled at dinner, unlike John, and he said nothing about the kiss when they returned to their rooms for the night. Because the kiss hadn't meant anything to him, obviously. John knew that Sherlock cared for him. He remembered how concerned he had been when John was ill after the Star Wars ride—that hadn't been fake. But it wasn't romantic, either, because Sherlock didn't feel things that way. And even if he did, why would he be interested in someone like John? Sherlock was beautiful and John was—well, he sure hadn't been turning any heads at the pool this afternoon.

Once the girls were settled for the night, John came back to the room to find Sherlock examining himself in the mirror once again. "More freckles?" he asked.

"No, I think I'm actually burned this time."

"How?" He knew Sherlock had reapplied the sun cream frequently, even though they swam late in the day.

Sherlock lowered his head and pointed to the part in his hair that had been created when he'd had it styled at the salon that morning. Sure enough, the thin strip of his scalp that had been exposed was now bright red. "I should've kept the bandanna on, I guess." He turned back to the mirror and began to remove the beads that were still strung throughout his hair.

"Want me to go get some aloe for you?"

"No, it doesn't hurt unless I press on it." He tossed another bead into the rubbish bin by the sink. "What do you think? Should I leave the skull one in?"

John laughed. "It does suit you."

Sherlock smiled and flicked the bead back behind his ear. "I'm having a shower now," he announced, and disappeared into the loo.

John stared at the closed door for a moment, trying to convince himself that there was no need to go find some lotion for Sherlock's burned scalp. One of the rooms down the hall had a bottle of aloe vera—John had given it to them last night, and they would certainly let him borrow it if he asked. But Sherlock said he didn't need it, which meant that John wouldn't get the chance to run a finger through his hair, soothing and caressing and...he needed to stop. Nothing good would come of imagining his hands in Sherlock's hair. 

He brushed his teeth, put on his pyjamas and climbed into bed. Sherlock took a long time in the shower, no doubt trying to wash out all the goo that had been slathered into his hair to straighten and style it. John lay in bed, listening to the water run and waiting. But when the water finally shut off, he was seized by a sudden awkwardness. They'd kissed earlier today. It hadn't meant anything, but John wanted it to, and how was he possibly supposed to live with that now? How was he supposed to sleep, with Sherlock inches away, knowing that if only everything were different they could be kissing each other goodnight each evening and then kissing again first thing in the morning? John squeezed his eyes shut and rolled away from the light coming from the bathroom, deciding that faking sleep was his best option for tonight. Sherlock might be a better actor, but sometimes John could pretend just as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 more chapters to go, but they are much happier, I promise!


	6. Chapter 6

That night John made sure to sleep at the very edge of the bed, keeping more space between him and Sherlock than there had been any night previously. He woke in the morning still in the same position, facing the wall, but when he moved to stretch he discovered that Sherlock had migrated closer. John could feel the heat from his body, not quite touching but lying mere inches away behind him.

John blinked his eyes closed for a moment, then reached back with one foot and gave Sherlock's shin a gentle but firm push to encourage him to move away.

"Mmph." Sherlock exhaled, his breath stirring the hair on the back of John's head. The sheet covering them shifted and a large, warm hand landed on John's hip, which was the exact opposite of what he'd been hoping to achieve.

"Sherlock, let go of me." He shoved his foot backwards a bit harder this time, trying not to think about the places where their bodies were touching. 

"No." Sherlock's voice was clear, with no trace of sleepiness that John could detect.

He pushed his shoulder back against Sherlock's chest, then squirmed enough that he was able to turn on his back, though Sherlock didn't give him any more room. The only movement he made was to take his hand from John's hip to rest on his chest, which was not really any better. "Come on. It's not funny," John said.

"I'm not trying to be funny," Sherlock said. He splayed his fingers across John's chest for a moment, then sighed and rolled onto his back, as well. 

"Well, what are you trying to do? You can't be cold." The air conditioning unit in the corner was humming, but the temperature was still warm compared to what they were used to in their flat back home. John pulled the sheet up higher on his chest anyway, clenching his fingers around the hem of the fabric.

"No." Sherlock sighed again and sat up, adjusting a pillow behind him so he could lean against the headboard. "I'm just tired."

"All right, you don't have to get up yet—"

"I'm tired of pretending," Sherlock said.

Oh. John went cold at the words. He took a breath through his nose and exhaled slowly. "Okay. Sorry." He knew this holiday had been too good to last. Though he didn't understand why Sherlock had been sleeping so close to him if he didn't want to keep pretending they were together. He sat up so he wouldn't have to listen to Sherlock reject him while lying down. "We only have two more days left, so maybe no one will notice if we dial back our act a bit." 

"No, I don't want to dial it back."

John frowned down at his own hands where he still grasped the sheet. He didn't want to look at Sherlock. Why did they have to have this conversation in bed? He should've got up first before he tried to wake Sherlock. "Well, I guess we could pretend to have a fight and then ignore each other entirely, but that might put a damper on the trip for Rosie and her friends." To say nothing of all the mums who were still cooing over him and Sherlock as a couple.

"John." Sherlock threw an arm across his eyes. 

John risked a glance at him. "What? Move over. We still have to share this bed, even if we don't keep pretending to be a couple."

"John, when I say I am tired of pretending...."

"Yeah, I get it."

"No, you really don't." Sherlock shifted on the bed, turning so he sat with one leg bent, facing John. "What I mean to say is, I have been pretending, this whole week, but not how you think." He took a deep breath. "I'm pretending that I'm pretending to be in love with you."

John stared at him, trying to puzzle out his meaning, and Sherlock met his gaze. "It's you I'm putting on an act for, John. Everyone else who's seeing how I behave with you—they're the ones seeing the truth. I don't want to keep pretending we're together. I want it to be real."

"You—what?" John studied his face, trying to detect any hint of a joke, but aside from the tiny plastic skull that was still woven into his bed-tangled hair, he looked completely serious.

Sherlock stared back at him for a moment, then threw up his hands. "Oh, come on. You can't be that shocked. You know that I love you. You've known that for years."

"I—yeah. I do know." John felt his shoulders sag as tension fled his body. "Of course, of course I know. But you—you don't do this sort of thing." He motioned between them, and at the bed they were sitting on. "Relationships. Romance. You know."

"I don't, generally. I try not to. It's vanishingly rare, at least." He waved a hand at John. "But once I met you, I didn't stand a chance."

John wrinkled his brow. "Really?"

"Obviously."

"Obviously?" John moved to mirror Sherlock's position, sitting upright on the bed so they faced one another directly. "Sherlock, I have known you for over fifteen years, and I've lived with you for most of them, and in all that time, you have never indicated that you were attracted to me." 

"Well, I am an excellent actor."

"I—" John paused for a moment, looking at Sherlock, then gave him a giant grin. "I knew that kiss yesterday wasn't an act," he said, and threw himself at Sherlock, trapping him against the pillow. Sherlock didn't object. Instead he tipped his head up, so John kissed him, a full, open-mouthed kiss that held none of the uncertainty they'd shared yesterday. 

After a few seconds John pulled back and Sherlock swallowed, visibly relieved. "So you are attracted to me, as well."

John started to laugh. "Yeah. You could say that." 

"Good. I thought so, but I still wasn't one hundred percent certain."

John shook his head. "For a genius—"

"You spent quite a few years dating women and saying you weren't gay."

John gave a sheepish smile and leaned back against his own pillow again. "Well, I do like women. And it always has been extremely frustrating having half the people we met think you and I were a couple when we weren't and I thought we never would be. Saying I wasn't gay was a way to protect myself. I never said I wasn't bisexual."

Sherlock nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. I played it safe as well. I never let myself believe you might be interested, because it was safer to assume that you weren't. I wouldn't lose you and Rosie that way." 

"Sherlock. You could never lose me. You know I've always loved you, too."

Sherlock smiled. "I do know that, but I was still hesitant. When I found out about this trip, though, I thought maybe I might be able to enjoy myself and our relationship a little more than usual, and then go back to the way things were when we got back home."

"Did you plan this?" John waved his hand at the room around them.

"Not the single bed. That was a stroke of luck."

"Or Mrs. Hicks's interference."

"And Rosie's. She's the one we have to thank, for telling everyone we were on our honeymoon. Smart girl you have there, John."

"Must be your influence," John said, and kissed him again. Before yesterday he would've guessed that Sherlock would be a poor kisser, as inexperienced as John knew him to be, but now their lips fit together as if they'd had years of practice. John let himself groan just a bit and brought his hand up to cup Sherlock's face, pausing long enough to say, "You're really good at this."

"Of course I am," Sherlock replied, and before John could react to the smug tone, added, "I'm following your lead." He pulled John closer, wrapping his arms around him. He was taller and stronger than anyone John had ever kissed before, but John thought he could get used to it very quickly. He let Sherlock reposition them both, pushing the pillows and blankets out of the way, very aware of all the spots where their bare skin was touching. Just as John began to wonder how far this kissing session was going to go, they were interrupted by a shrill beeping noise coming from the nightstand.

Sherlock broke the kiss, cursing as he rolled across the bed and grabbed his phone to silence it. "Sorry. Forgot about that."

John stretched out on his stomach in the warm spot Sherlock had vacated. "Didn't know we were on a schedule again today."

"Yes, well. Epcot. I didn't have time to make a full itinerary because I had other things I was thinking about all night, but I did set the alarm. Sorry. It's a big park so I thought we'd want an early start."

"I disagree. An early start today would be a terrible idea. Come back here."

"Excellent plan." Sherlock tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and turned toward John again. 

John lifted his head, pushing himself up on his elbows, but before they could start kissing again, someone began to pound on the door between the rooms. He lowered his head and sighed. "Hang on!" He gave Sherlock a quick peck on the lips and slipped out of bed.

Rosie burst past him as soon as he opened the door. "Need your loo. Abby's hogging ours." She ran into their bathroom.

John closed the door between the rooms, leaving it unlocked. He padded back over to the bed and stood looking down at Sherlock. "So, uh, if we're going to be—" He motioned with one hand between the two of them. "We'll need to have a little talk with Rosie, I guess." 

Before Sherlock could respond, there was a shout from the room next door and their door was pushed open once more. Leah stuck her head in, giggling. "Rosie!" She glanced at John and Sherlock and said, "Sorry. Rosie, hurry up!" before pulling the door shut again, giggling all the while.

"Perhaps we should wait to talk to her until the three of us can find a bit more privacy," Sherlock suggested, and John nodded in agreement. He had no idea how Rosie might react, though he couldn't imagine her being upset by the news. Surprised, maybe. He hadn't dated anyone since Mary died, and so Rosie had never known any way of life other than living with her father and her father's best friend. That wouldn't be any different for her now, of course, even if everything changed for John and Sherlock.

At breakfast John was certain that Rosie would be able to deduce their news. He knew he was giggling too much for no reason, and Sherlock kept looking at him with a smile that was much more gentle than his usual expression. John didn't like the idea of keeping a secret from Rosie for even a short time, but Sherlock was right. She deserved a full explanation when the three of them were alone, not a public announcement in front of her friends and half her classmates.

By the time they were done with breakfast, Sherlock's mood had deteriorated. His efforts to reserve FastPasses for the day were largely unsuccessful, and he ranted about it on the bus and as they walked through the gates into the park. John didn't want the whole day to be spoiled, so he caught him by the arm and let the girls get a few steps ahead of them. "What do you think?" he asked, pointing to the giant white ball that was the dominant feature as they entered the park. 

"Spaceship Earth," Sherlock said. "It's a geodesic sphere. What's your point?"

John sighed and motioned at all the groups of people in front of them who were posing for photos with it as a backdrop. "We could get a group shot, then one of just you and me."

Sherlock's brow furrowed for a moment before he beamed at John. "With no pretense this time," he said, his voice low.

"Exactly." John grinned back at him. 

They flagged down one of the park photographers and took several shots with the girls in various serious and silly poses before Sherlock waved them away. "Just the two of us," he said, and put his arm around John's shoulders.

Rosie gave them a strange look but stepped away, immediately engrossed in her phone and a conversation with her friends. John let himself lean into Sherlock with no hesitation. He didn't know if this photo would look any different from the dozens of others they'd had taken over the past few days, but he knew it certainly felt like something new.

After the photo, they joined the queue for Spaceship Earth, which wasn't a very long wait. Sherlock spent the time reciting a history of Epcot, along with commentary on which parts he thought were good or bad, though of course he hadn't seen any of them himself yet. Apparently, the ride they were about to board had been quite visionary when it first opened, but was now considered outdated. He was still talking when they reached the loading area and boarded the ride. 

John slid into the spot next to him. "Are you going to keep lecturing through this whole ride?" he asked, as the car they were in slowly crept along a conveyor belt into a darkened tunnel.

"Would you rather listen to this pre-recorded drivel? Or perhaps you want to play along with the game?" He pointed to the interactive screen that was questioning them about where they lived.

"Hmm." John looked around. The girls were all in the car in front of them; there were two people seated directly behind them in their vehicle, but they were strangers so John didn't really care. He slid over on the seat until he and Sherlock were touching knee to shoulder and settled his right hand on Sherlock's thigh. "If you're bored you can pay attention to me, instead." 

Sherlock's head whipped around to stare at him. Even in the dim light, John could see his expression of shock, though this was certainly less intimate than they had been with each other a couple of hours ago in bed. Only the tips of John's fingers were even touching bare skin. He gave Sherlock's thigh a light squeeze, then grinned at the camera that was taking their photo as the ride began.

It took about fifteen minutes, a slow-moving journey through the history of mankind, ending with some rather optimistic predictions for the future. John had to agree that it was rather corny and over-simplified, but Sherlock didn't voice any further complaint. He settled his hand on top of John's and leaned back against the hard plastic seat without a word. John had been planning to snuggle a bit closer and perhaps steal a kiss when they were in the darker sections of the ride, but instead he sat still, letting Sherlock process the fact that they would soon be able to touch each other like this openly in public.

When the ride was over and John tried to pull his hand back, Sherlock squeezed his fingers tight for a moment before letting go so they could disembark. As they followed the girls outside, John watched as Sherlock transformed back to his normal, critical self. "Factually inaccurate," he announced.

"I liked it," said Rosie.

"I enjoyed myself as well," John said with a smirk.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. "I'm still not pleased with what's on offer here in this park. Test Track sounds good but it's closed for repairs. Mission Space has a two-hour wait. The only FastPasses available for it are at eight tonight. There are slots for Soarin' Around the World for this afternoon, but I already have passes for Frozen and the way the system is designed it won't let us have both at once."

"We can wait in the queue for Soarin'," Abby said. "That's in the Land, and they have the best food there so we can ride it and then eat lunch."

"What are we close to now?" John peered at Sherlock's phone, raising a hand to shield it from the glare of the sun. 

"The Finding Nemo place is over that way." Abby pointed to a sign that proclaimed "The Seas."

"Is that a ride?"

"Yeah, but the cool part is the aquarium. It's giant and it's got sharks and—"

John's stomach dropped in a panic he hadn't felt in years. He tried to swallow to speak but his mouth was too dry.

"No aquariums," Sherlock said. 

"Why not?" Abby asked. "It's bigger than the one—"

"No. I hate fish. Always have. Probably some childhood trauma I've repressed or something." He pointed to another sign. "We're going to Journey into Imagination instead." He stuffed the map into his pocket, then put an arm around John's waist, guiding him in the direction they were headed. "All right?" he murmured, while the girls set off ahead of them.

"Yeah, fine." John gave a little shake of his head to clear it. "Thanks. Let's get some water first, okay?" He appreciated Sherlock's arm around his waist, but it was also far too hot to be touching each other.

They stopped for water bottles, then continued to the Imagination pavilion. John had no expectations whatsoever about it, but he could tell that Sherlock was struggling not to be too negative in front of the girls, given that he had chosen the attraction. Most of its appeal seemed to hinge on the perceived cuteness of a small purple dragon named Figment. After they'd finished the ride, the girls spent some time playing with the pavilion's interactive exhibits as Sherlock paced, growing increasingly restless. John thought he would explode when all four girls insisted on stopping in the gift shop to buy small plush Figments.

"Hey, come here for a second." John paused just outside the gift shop entrance.

"What?"

"I want to show you something." John led him around a corner, away from the gift shop and the interactive displays.

"What are you showing me? This blank wall or that door marked 'Cast Members Only'?"

"This." He slipped his arms around Sherlock's chest and pulled him in for a quick kiss.

"Oh." Sherlock blinked at him and then kissed him again. "We should skip the rest of this park and go back to the hotel."

John laughed. "I would, but I don't know how we'd explain that to the girls."

Sherlock sighed and leaned his weight against John. "I have suddenly lost all interest in anything remotely theme park-related."

"Mm. I understand. Just a few more hours, then we'll be back in our room together."

The girls bought their dragons and they walked outside together, greeted by what felt like a physical wall of heat. Sherlock gathered everyone around to plan their next steps. "It's not even noon yet. It's ridiculously hot and the average tourist walks nearly ten miles when spending a full day in this park. I vote we go back to the hotel and swim instead."

"But we have to do Soarin' and Mission Space!" Abby said. "Though you probably won't like Mission Space, Dr. Watson. It spins so much it has sick bags. Sorry."

John gave her a half-hearted smile. "Then I guess it's good our passes for that aren't until later tonight. Unless you girls do want to go back to the hotel, instead?"

"No, we just did that yesterday," Rosie said. "I want to see all the countries here."

"Fine." Sherlock didn't disguise his sigh. "Let's head over to the Land and see how long we have to spend standing in a queue."

They did have to wait for a while to ride Soarin', though as they were in the queue the crowd behind them grew larger as lunchtime approached and more people came into the pavilion to eat and see the attractions. John was glad they rode before they ate—overall it wasn't bad, but there were a few sections where the illusion of flying over various landscapes made his stomach lurch.

When they were done they ate in the large food court, which offered a much better variety than their hotel. He and Sherlock split their orders of Mongolian beef and spicy fish tacos, and John finished off Rosie's chicken and rice with beans when she couldn't eat it all. He thought they would leave the pavilion after that, but Sherlock wanted to try Living with the Land, which was a boat ride that Abby proclaimed was boring but that her mum had loved. The wait wasn't too long at all, and while it wasn't exactly a thrill ride, John did find it interesting. He was hoping for another chance to at least hold hands, but the ride was too open and the girls were too close for that. He would be very glad when they had a chance to talk to Rosie.

The beginning of the ride was mostly a lecture about the environment, but the second half took the boat through a series of working greenhouses. John wasn't quite prepared for the level of fascination Sherlock displayed in the various methods of agriculture that were on display. Afterward they nearly ended up registering for a behind the scenes tour, but there weren't any open slots available until the following week. Sherlock had to settle for buying an assortment of tiny plants to bring home, including a cactus and a Venus fly trap; John hoped they'd be able to make it through customs.

When they'd finished everything in the Land, they headed out of Future World to the other half of the park, the World Showcase. Sherlock looked at the map as they debated whether to go to Canada or Mexico first. "Do we really need to see all these countries? One of them is the UK, for God's sake."

"Maybe it will be nice and cool and rainy there," John said.

"It's going to take us hours to visit them all." Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "You girls aren't really that interested in world culture, are you?"

"I want to go on the Frozen ride," Chloe said, predictably, though the other girls all agreed with her.

"That's in Norway, which is the second country if we start with Mexico." Sherlock pointed at the map. "We can do Mexico and Norway and then leave."

"I want to go shopping!" Leah said. "Abby says the shop in Japan is huge!"

"It is," Abby said. "Plus, if we go back now we won't get to go on Mission Space. And I want to watch the acrobats from China, and there are African drums you can play, and we should look at the schedule because there are lots of different concerts and stuff."

Sherlock frowned. "How fast can we walk through it all?"

"You can do what my dad did when we were here and drink a beer in every country."

John laughed. "Is that really a thing people do?"

"Yep. My mum got really mad at him, though. And she said it was expensive."

John nodded. "I don't think that would be very responsible of us to do that on this trip."

"There are eleven countries." Sherlock looked thoughtful, even though John knew for a fact that he could not handle eleven beers. "We could split each drink. Is it all beer, or are there other options?"

Abby stared at him. "I'm a kid. How would I know?"

"Excellent point. We'll start in Mexico. I bet they have margaritas."

Rosie, apparently feeling left out of the drinking game, came up with the idea of buying a snack in every country, though after the first few stops they switched to chocolate bars and sweets that they could save for later. John envisioned having to help Sherlock walk by the time they got halfway around the world, but it turned out that sharing the drinks really wasn't too bad. They spent at least thirty minutes in most of the countries, which worked out to only a full drink per hour for each of them, and while they didn't eat as much junk food as the girls did, they didn't go hungry, either, which helped them stay sober. Or relatively so—John thought if he were completely sober it would be easier to resist the urge he kept having to take Sherlock's hand and tug it up to his lips.

The girls were all entertained by the Frozen ride—apparently after a few days in Disney, Leah had decided it was no longer uncool to admit to enjoying anything with a princess theme. After Mexico and Norway, none of the other countries offered rides, so John thought they might grow bored and tired of walking as the day went on, but the prospect of shopping and especially of seeing what sort of sweets they could buy in each country kept them going. 

It poured as they walked between Germany and Italy, though the rain felt good and it was only the fact that they were circumnavigating a lake that made them run for the cover of the next building when they heard thunder. John and Sherlock shared a glass of wine while the girls argued over which flavors of chocolate to choose and compromised by buying almost everything in sight.

Instead of stopping for a full dinner, they had bread and cheese followed by ice cream in France, and continued on their way. The United Kingdom pavilion seemed to offer a bit of a hodgepodge of English stereotypes, but Sherlock ordered a Pimm's Cup at the pub while John and the girls chatted with some of the workers in the shops, who were university students from back home. The final country they reached was Canada, where the girls bought maple sugar-flavored lozenges and John chose a mid-priced beer. 

"This is the best drink we've had," he said, offering it to Sherlock. 

Sherlock took a sip. "It most certainly is not. Your taste buds are malfunctioning because you've had too much to drink. The Grand Marnier slushie was the best drink we've had."

"Too orangey," John said, and reached for Sherlock's hand as they started to walk toward the bridge back to Future World. 

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him but didn't object. John sipped at the beer and watched Rosie as she walked ahead of them. She didn't turn around before the walkway got crowded enough that they had to let go of each other's hands. 

They made it to Mission Space a few minutes after eight o'clock. There wasn't much of a crowd, since apparently most people were flocking to the World Showcase to watch the light show that would begin at nine. John stopped at the entrance to the ride, reading the posted warnings. "I think I'll sit this one out."

Sherlock motioned to the sign. "You can do the green version instead of the orange. It doesn't spin. It's just a motion simulator. Like Soarin'."

"Star Tours was a motion simulator, too." John said. "I'll pass."

"Okay." Sherlock glanced at the girls. "Go on ahead," he told them. "We'll be out here when you're done."

The girls headed inside without having to be told twice, but John didn't want Sherlock to have to miss out. "Go on and ride it. You know you want to."

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"It's okay. You should ride. As long as that last beer has settled, hmm?"

"You drank almost all of it." He touched John's elbow. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. Go on. I'll sit right over there on that bench, and when you're done we can finally go back to the hotel." John smiled at him.

"All right." Sherlock ducked his head and planted a kiss on John's lips, catching him by surprise. "We'll be as quick as we can."

They may have been quick, but it felt like a long time to John, given that once he sat down on the bench his body immediately declared that it had had enough for the day and would now like to be home in bed. He managed not to doze off while waiting, but it was a close call.

When Sherlock and the girls finally returned, it was with the news that John had made the right decision. "I thought Leah was going to sick up all over me," Rosie said. "Then I looked at Sherlock and he looked like he was ready to puke, too, and I thought I was doomed because I was sitting between them." She shook her head. "No one puked, though, so it's all right."

Sherlock groaned and sat down heavily next to John. "I am never spinning again."

"Sorry." John patted him on the thigh. "I think there are still some peppermints in our room. Ready to go back?"

By the time they made it back to the hotel, Sherlock's nausea had worn off, though he and John raced to see which of them could reach the loo first. John won, but then Sherlock lingered for a shower, leaving John to make sure the girls went to bed. He kept looking for an opportunity to take Rosie aside and talk with her about him and Sherlock, but it never came, so he resigned himself to waiting until the next day.

It was close to midnight before he himself was ready for bed. He checked himself in the bathroom mirror—a middle-aged man wearing a plain white vest and gray boxer shorts. He still wasn't sure what Sherlock saw in him, but he wasn't going to question it now.

Sherlock was waiting in bed for him, for once not looking at his phone or a Disney guidebook. He twitched the sheet back, beckoning John to join him.

John climbed into bed with a groan, lying on his side to face Sherlock, with about a foot of distance between them. "I thought I was used to walking but I have new blisters."

"My phone says we only did about seven miles today, but it felt like more." Sherlock slid his hand, palm up, across the empty space in between them. 

John put his hand on top of Sherlock's. "Maybe it was psychological. Since we wanted to be back here so badly."

"Perhaps." Sherlock curled his fingers up around John's hand and pulled it toward himself. John let him do as he wanted, though he didn't expect the gentle brush of lips over his knuckles.

"Sherlock," he breathed, and felt the grip on his hand tighten.

"Mmm." Sherlock closed his eyes. John watched him carefully. He'd taken the skull charm out of his hair, his nose had more freckles than it had a few days ago, and his face showed an openness John had never seen before. "John, I have something I need to tell you."

"Yes?"

"I really want to...explore this more but I am very, very tired."

"Oh, thank God." John let his own eyes drift closed for a moment. "I'm exhausted."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

Sherlock opened his eyes. "I haven't planned the day's schedule again. I'm sorry." 

"It's all right." John pulled his hand back and reached over to turn off the light. "We have the breakfast with Mickey at the Contemporary, then Animal Kingdom, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. How about you let me do the schedule for tomorrow, then?"

"Really?"

"Yes. I am capable of a basic level of planning, you know."

"I just didn't think you were interested in that sort of thing."

John shrugged. "I'm not about to memorize the guidebooks like you have, no, but I think I can manage to arrange one day for us. It's a special day, after all."

"Our last day here," Sherlock said.

"And it's also going to be our first date."

"I do think we've been on dates together before, John, despite what you may think."

"Tomorrow will be much more romantic, I promise. Given the limits that we are in Disney World and neither of us are particularly romantic people, of course."

"Of course. We'll need to tell Rosie first."

"We will. In the morning." He slid forward for a kiss; Sherlock met him halfway. As they kissed, John briefly considered that perhaps he didn't really need to sleep right now, but after a few delightful seconds, Sherlock broke off the kiss with a yawn.

"Sorry," he said, scrubbing a hand across his face. 

"It's all right," John said. "We should go to sleep. We'll have all day tomorrow together."

"And then the rest of our lives," Sherlock said, and pulled the sheet up, tucking it around his shoulders. 

John smiled at him through the dark. "Good night, Sherlock." He adjusted the sheet over himself and then reached out to hold Sherlock's hand once more. They fell asleep together, hands entwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Journey into Imagination will be replaced within the next ten years but I personally have a soft spot for Figment. Also I think Epcot is the favorite park of everyone in my family, but we do all like to shop. We did buy candy in every country one year but Morocco didn't have any for sale. I've never tried to drink around the world because I'm cheap and not a big drinker, but in writing this I discovered that many of the countries have appealing sounding mixed drinks that I'm tempted to try. I'm still really cheap though so it would probably just be one or two.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning when John woke up, the first thing he did was reach out across the few inches of space that had come between them in the night. Sherlock was still there, of course, asleep on his back, mouth slightly open, body angled toward John. John lay there for a long while, entranced by the rise and fall of Sherlock's chest, finding it a bit hard to believe that he was able to touch him without fear of being caught. 

When Sherlock finally woke, he brought his own hand up to grasp John's wrist where it rested on his chest. "Checking to see I'm still breathing?"

"Not exactly." John pulled his hand back and propped himself up on one elbow, grinning. "I was just debating whether to wake you up with a kiss."

"Why would that be something worthy of debate?" Sherlock rolled to meet John's lips. 

They both had the same stale morning breath, made worse by the drinking they'd done the night before. John found he didn't care, though he couldn't maintain the kiss for very long. "Sorry. I need to—" He waved his hand behind him, toward the loo, then slipped out of bed. 

When he was done, Sherlock took a turn while John stood at the sink and brushed his teeth. He rinsed off his toothbrush and wondered if he should linger to surprise Sherlock with another kiss when he came out of the loo. Or would he not appreciate being ambushed like that? He was overthinking it, he knew, but he wanted to get it right. He was still trying to decide when Sherlock opened the door. John froze where he stood, toothbrush in his hand. 

Sherlock stopped and looked at him. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just—" John let out a little laugh and set his toothbrush down on the edge of the basin. "I don't really know how to do this." He motioned between them.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and then stepped around him to wash his hands. "That is unfortunate, since I was relying on you to take the lead. Given your previous relationship experience."

"Yeah, well, my relationship experience is a bit outdated, and possibly never that good in the first place."

"Hmm. Then I guess we'll have to make it up as we go along." Sherlock turned and leaned back against the sink, arms crossed over his chest.

John took a small step backwards, taking in the sight of Sherlock first thing in the morning: loose boxer shorts, thin t-shirt with the hem pulled unevenly down across his hips, hair a rumpled, frizzy mess. John had seen it all before, of course, but he'd rarely let himself look, and had never done so openly. Sherlock saw him looking now and uncrossed his arms, smiling smugly, and John pounced, pinning him against the countertop. 

Sherlock ran his hands down the sides of John's shirt, drying them off—he didn't even try to disguise it—then circled his waist with arms longer than John was used to. Not that John was used to having anyone's arms around his waist, lately. He let himself be pulled closer. Maybe he did know what to do after all. He tipped his head up for a kiss, but Sherlock turned his face slightly to the side so he could speak, instead. "We should have woken up earlier."

"Shit." John dropped his head so his face rested against Sherlock's shoulder. "We can't skip breakfast today, can we?"

"No, I'm afraid not." He took one hand from John's waist to gesture at the door between the two rooms. "Shall I do the honors or would you like to?" 

"I will." John stepped away from Sherlock with a sigh. He could hear even through the doors that the girls were already awake. He knocked and after a few moments Rosie opened the door—the other girls were all piled into one of the beds, giggling at their phones together. He switched over to stern father mode, admonishing them all to get up and get dressed so they wouldn't miss their breakfast reservation. As he turned to go back to his room he spied the guidebooks Abby had brought with her piled on the table. Sherlock must have finally returned them. He picked up the largest one and started to thumb through it, wondering how he would live up to his promise to plan a romantic day for the two of them. 

Abby peered over his shoulder. "If you're looking for a restaurant reservation, you probably should've done that months ago."

"Thanks." He frowned and handed the book back to her, then returned to his room so he could use the app on his phone instead. There did seem to be a few options for a romantic dinner, at least, but Abby might have been right about it being too late to get a reservation. He had to try, though. But first he had to make sure everyone got ready in time for breakfast. 

They made it, barely, running to catch a bus that would take them to the monorail that went to the Contemporary Resort, home of Chef Mickey's. They were all sweating as they stepped into the cool air of the bus. Rosie started to follow her friends into the first empty seats, but John grabbed her lightly by the arm and tugged. When she looked up at him in question he nodded toward the back of the bus. "Come sit back here. We need to talk to you."

She glanced at Chloe, who had already settled into a seat.

"Just you," John said. "It's...a family thing."

"Okay, Dad. Don't get all weird on me." She pulled free of his grasp but went with him willingly enough. The three of them sat side by side in the row of seats that lined the very back of the bus, with Rosie in between John and Sherlock. "What's so important? I told Chloe I would sit with her."

"Sherlock and I have something we need to tell you."

"Obviously. What?" She started to slide her phone from her back pocket and Sherlock reached out to stop her.

"Listen. It's important."

"Okay then." She met his eyes, then turned to John. "Tell me already. Spit it out."

He glanced over her at Sherlock, who let go of Rosie's arm and nodded at John to continue. Of course. It wasn't that he didn't want to be the one to tell her, but he didn't know exactly what to say.

"Okay. Uh." John started to rub at the back of his neck only to find it slick with sweat from their dash through the heat. He folded his hands in his lap instead. "Rosie. So—"

"Oh, for God's sake, John," Sherlock said. "She's right. Just spit it out."

"I'm trying, all right? It's hard to put into words."

Sherlock sighed. He stood up, took a step past Rosie, and then bent down and planted a kiss full on John's lips. "There. No words necessary." He grinned triumphantly, as if he had just solved a case in front of half of Scotland Yard, then sat back down in his seat. 

John's own smile felt a bit more dazed as he looked at Rosie to gauge her reaction. He could see that she hadn't quite worked it through all the way, so he told her, "We're not pretending anymore."

Rosie's face wrinkled in dawning comprehension. "You're going to date each other?"

"Yes." Date wasn't the word he would've used, but it would work as well as any. He glanced at Sherlock, who nodded his agreement and leaned back in his seat, legs crossed at the ankle with his feet stuck out in front of him, looking quite pleased with the situation.

"Okay," Rosie said.

"Okay?"

"Okay." She swiveled her head back and forth between the two of them. "I mean, you're not going to keep snogging like that when we're at home, are you? Not in front of me, at least."

"Er, no." He knew that children never wanted to see their parents being intimate. "I think we can manage to keep the kissing in the bedroom."

Rosie nodded slowly, then popped her head up. "Oh! The bedroom! Does this mean you'll move downstairs into Sherlock's room and the whole upstairs can be mine?"

John gaped at her until Sherlock stepped in. "We can work out the logistics when we get home. We just wanted to let you know what was going on." He slipped an arm around her shoulders, fingertips grazing John's bicep, and Rosie sank back into his embrace. John wondered why he'd worried at all about her reaction. Nothing was going to change for her—she'd had two loving fathers since the day she was born.

When they finally reached the hotel with the restaurant, Sherlock paused on the platform outside the monorail. "John, hang on a moment." 

"What is it?" John stopped next to him. The girls had run ahead already, anxious to meet up with the rest of their classmates. He could see Rosie hesitating, though, lagging behind so she could watch John and Sherlock.

"It's just—" Sherlock stuck his hand into the pocket of his shorts and produced the two celebratory buttons they'd received on the first day of the trip. "I thought Mrs. Hicks would appreciate it if we wore these today."

"Right." John grinned and took one of the buttons from him. He'd forgotten all about them, but apparently Sherlock had kept them, somehow anticipating that they would end the holiday happily ever after. He fastened the pin onto his shirt. "We wouldn't want to disappoint Mrs. Hicks, would we?"

"Of course not." Sherlock turned and began to stride away, but not as quickly as he usually did. Without turning around, he stuck his hand out to the side, inviting. 

John trotted a few steps to catch up, then took his hand as they boarded the escalator that led down to the restaurant.

"Don't think this is going to be a regular occurrence now," Sherlock said.

"What, holding hands?"

"No. Me slowing down for you. It's not my fault your legs are too short."

"Dickhead." John elbowed him in the side without letting go of his hand.

Sherlock grinned and tightened his grip, and they headed downstairs to Chef Mickey's.

The whole class was scheduled to eat at the same time at the restaurant, which appeared to be more than able to accommodate their numbers, although the group did overwhelm the waiting area. Rosie and her friends found seats on the floor, while John and Sherlock stood together, arms slung casually around each other's waists. Sherlock made a rude comment about another group of diners who were posing for a photo with a statue of Mickey Mouse and John began to giggle. From her spot on the floor, Rosie caught his eye, then stood and crossed the short distance to join them.

"So when did this whole thing become official?" She waved her hands at the two of them.

"Er, yesterday. Yesterday morning."

"Oh, so Leah was right. She said she saw you kissing in Epcot but I thought she was just projecting because she still wants to kiss Mason. Smile!" Rosie lifted her phone; the flash had gone off before John even realized what she was doing. 

"Let me see that." Sherlock let go of John long enough to take Rosie's phone from her hand. "No. Take another one." He stepped close to John again, and they slid their arms around each other's waists once more. John leaned his weight against Sherlock's side and smiled and the second photo turned out much better. 

A few seats opened up in the waiting area and John and Sherlock claimed them. Once again, Sherlock put his arm around John as soon as they were sitting. "Are you going to be a snuggler like this at home, too?" John asked. "Not that I mind."

"Well, Rosie might object if we're too sentimental, but we'll have to do it when Mycroft's around, because he'll hate it."

John laughed and then groaned. "Oh, God, I don't want to be the one who has to tell Mycroft we're together."

Rosie turned around from where she'd been talking to her friends. "Don't worry about Mycroft. He already knows."

"He most certainly does not," Sherlock said. John felt his hand tense where it rested on his shoulder.

"Yeah, he does." Rosie raised her phone, displaying the photo she had snapped earlier. "He follows my Instagram."

John squinted at her phone. The photo had 163 likes already. Well, at least they wouldn't have to worry about having to make an announcement to anyone back home.

It was nearly ten o'clock by the time they were actually seated in the restaurant. Although the meal was promoted as a character breakfast, John thought it would function much as the greetings in the parks did, with people who wanted a photo op expected to queue for a turn. Instead, as soon as they'd filled their plates from the buffet, Disney characters began to appear, stopping to visit each table, even those that didn't have small children. Surprisingly, none of Rosie's classmates appeared to object to posing for photos with Mickey and his friends—most seemed to enjoy the opportunity to mug for the camera.

John had no intention of posing himself, though the fact that their table was in the middle of the dining room meant they couldn't really avoid the parade of characters, either. Donald Duck, Goofy and Pluto all stopped by for multiple photos with the girls, but he and Sherlock were able to eat without being bothered. The food wasn't spectacular, but there was a large variety and John intended to eat enough to last until dinner, which he still hadn't quite figured out a plan for.

He was almost done with his first plate when he glanced up, hearing a change in tenor of the girls' chatter. Minnie Mouse had approached their table, and Rosie jumped up to hug her, then flipped her hair back and stuck out one hip while Abby, Leah, Chloe and one of the Disney photographers all took their picture. The girls switched places and John went back to his food, then heard Sherlock say, "Thank you, that won't be necessary." He looked up to see Sherlock trying to fend off an embrace from Minnie, being unexpectedly polite about it. When it became clear that he wasn't going to be easily persuaded, Minnie stepped back, her giant head turning toward John, who sat across the table from him. He gave her a tight smile, thinking about what a horrible job it would be to have to wear that costume and interact with a bunch of kids all day without even being able to speak.

Minnie waved an over-sized, white-gloved hand at him and he nodded and returned his attention to his breakfast, grateful to have escaped any further character interaction. A moment later he was startled by one of Minnie's hands, reaching across his plate to tap him on the chest, where he had the "Happily Ever After" button displayed. He looked up over a forkful of eggs to see that she had spied Sherlock's button, as well. She brought both hands to her mouth for a moment, then jumped up and down, clapping and giving the impression that she was squealing in delight without actually making a sound.

"They're on their honeymoon!" Leah announced, and John couldn't keep a smile off his face, because even though Leah was technically incorrect, there was now more than a grain of truth to her statement. 

Minnie started waving her hands at them, indicating she wanted them to have their photo taken with her. He glanced over at Sherlock, who would surely not agree, but Sherlock surprised him with a nod. "Not on the blog," he said, and blotted at his mouth with his napkin before pushing his chair back from the table to stand.

John got up from his seat and came around the table to join him. Minnie stood in between them, but she pulled them close and then tugged at both of their arms until they clasped their hands in front of her. John imagined the pose worked better for actual newlyweds who wanted to display their wedding rings, but he didn't care. Yes, he felt a bit ridiculous posing with a mouse who was as tall as he was, but he knew he would be happy to have the memento later on.

When their photo had been taken, Rosie joined them for a family portrait. He was glad that she was old enough that she would remember this holiday for the rest of her life, adding it to what was hopefully a trove of happy childhood memories, certainly more than he or Sherlock had ever had.

Minnie Mouse moved on to the next table and John went back to the buffet to see what he might have missed on his first time through. On his way there, he detoured across the room to where Mrs. Hicks sat with one of Rosie's other teachers. 

"Oh, you've got your buttons on today." She smiled up at him over a plateful of pastries.

"Yeah." John raised a hand to the pin self-consciously, which was silly because in Mrs. Hicks's mind nothing had changed between him and Sherlock. He cleared his throat. "Er, Sherlock and I were wondering...." He trailed off, hesitant to ask a favor even though she had offered several times before.

"Yes?" 

"We were wondering if you might be willing to take the girls into the parks today? So we could, er, have some time alone?"

"Oh, of course!" She clapped her hands together. "Our group is going to Animal Kingdom—have Rosie and the others been there already?"

"No, that's the only park we haven't seen."

"Perfect! I'd be delighted to take them. Oh, but then you and Sherlock won't get to see it, will you? The Pandora section is supposed to be amazing." She paused and winked at him. "But I bet the two of you will have a better time back in your room, won't you?"

John thought he would die of embarrassment right then and there in the middle of Chef Mickey's without ever getting to do any of the things Mrs. Hicks was implying with her cheeky little wink. He swallowed and tried to keep his voice even. "I'm hoping to get the two of us a nice restaurant reservation for this evening, so if you could keep the girls for dinner, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course, of course. Don't worry about them. Go, enjoy your last day together before we all have to go back to real life."

"Thank you." John grinned at her, buoyed by the thought that going back to real life would not be a hardship at all, now that he was with Sherlock. He nodded a thank you at her, then, after a glance at the buffet queue, decided he wasn't really that hungry anymore. He hurried back to Sherlock and the girls to discover that while he was gone, two celebratory cupcakes had been delivered to their table. One was chocolate and one vanilla, each topped with mounds of white icing and placed together on a single plate inside a loop of icing shaped like a heart. 

"Dad! Can I eat your cupcakes? Sherlock said no, you might want yours but I know you don't like lots of icing but I do and—"

"Go ahead," John told her, and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder where he sat. "You about done with your meal?"

Sherlock peered up at him. "Why? Have you made plans for us today?"

"Yep." John turned to Rosie and the others. "Mrs. Hicks is going to take you girls to Animal Kingdom today. Sherlock and I are...having a grown-up day."

Leah made a whooping noise and Rosie groaned. "Dad! I don't need details!"

"What? I didn't—" He certainly hadn't given her any details, especially considering that he didn't even know any himself. "We're just having a kid-free day, that's all."

Rosie frowned. "If you leave now, you won't get your picture taken with Mickey Mouse."

"Enough photos. I'm ready," Sherlock announced, standing abruptly. He put his napkin on the table, ran one finger through the extra icing on the cupcake plate, and brought his finger to his mouth to lick it off. "Ready," he repeated, looking directly at John. 

John turned away before anyone could see the blush he felt spreading through his face. "Just make sure you listen to Mrs. Hicks, Rosie. Don't forget to use the sunblock. I'll text you when we're done with dinner." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him toward the restaurant's exit.

"I've deduced that we're not going to a park today," Sherlock said. "Am I right?"

John glanced sideways at him, eyebrows raised. "We can, if you want."

"No, no. You're planning today, not me. After all, I've already accomplished everything I hoped to do on this trip." He squeezed John's hand tighter.

"All right." John licked at his lower lip. "I was thinking we could just hang out at the hotel until dinner time?"

Sherlock nodded. "That is an excellent plan."

"Good." He pulled Sherlock closer so their arms were linked as they walked. 

The bus returning to their hotel wasn't crowded this early in the day, but they sat in the back again anyway, hands clasped, silent but comfortable together. John wanted to kiss Sherlock again, but while they'd shared a few kisses in public already, he didn't think either one of them were the type who would normally be overly demonstrative when others were around. He also wasn't eager to test the tolerance of the few families who sat on the bus with them, though he needn't have worried. None of the other passengers glanced twice at them as they disembarked, still holding hands. The driver nodded when he caught sight of their buttons and wished them a magical day. John hoped it would be, though he was starting to get a little worried.

It was nearly noon as they walked across the hotel grounds to their room. John let go of Sherlock's hand and pulled out his phone, letting himself fall a couple of steps behind. 

Sherlock noticed immediately, stopping and turning to ask, "What are you doing?"

"Just trying to get the rest of the day settled." John smiled. It was a long shot, but after glancing through the guidebook this morning he knew there was only one place that would serve to take Sherlock for dinner. "I have to make some phone calls. Go on up to the room and I'll be right up."

His luck was better than he expected, and within a few minutes he had everything set up. He went up to their room and found Sherlock pacing when he opened the door. John caught a glimpse of nervousness on his face before he schooled himself to his usual smirking expression. "Get everything arranged?" 

"Yep." John dropped his phone onto small table next to the telly.

"Dinner?"

"Of course. Don't worry, though. We've got a few hours to ourselves first.""

Sherlock grinned at him, but John didn't miss another flash of nerves behind his smile. Sherlock nervous. He'd seen it before, of course, but never in this context. Not that John blamed him—he himself had been a bit unsure of himself earlier, thinking about what exactly the two of them would do once they finally had uninterrupted time to be alone together. But now that they were actually here, he felt nothing but calmness and a certainty that everything was going to be fine. Even if Sherlock just wanted to sit on the bed and kiss all afternoon, everything would be fine.

He hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the room's door, then stepped past Sherlock and sat down on the bed. He patted the mattress next to him and Sherlock sat beside him without hesitating, though his body language was still tight and uncertain.

"Hey, relax." John gently bumped his shoulder, hip and knee against Sherlock's.

"Relax? I'm not tense. Why would I need to relax?"

"No reason." He turned his head and lifted his chin to plant a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

"I'm not tense," Sherlock repeated. 

"Okay," John said, and shifted his body so he had a better angle to continue kissing. Sherlock moved as well, and soon they were practically sitting in each other's laps, squirming to make more contact with each other's bodies.

Sherlock pulled back to catch his breath and John could feel himself being analyzed. 

"John, you've never been with a man before, have you? I can tell by the way you don't know what to do with your hands."

John considered protesting that he knew exactly what to do with his hands—he'd been just about to unbutton a shirt, though he wasn't sure whose to start with. But he shook his head, because Sherlock was right. "Nope. You're my first guy." 

"Why?" Sherlock tilted his head. "You're not otherwise uncomfortable now, so clearly you've known you were bisexual for a long time. Why no other men?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I had no reason to, I guess. I mean, sure, I've been attracted to other men before, but there was never a shortage of women I was attracted to, too, and it just always seemed easier...."

"Even in the army?"

"There are women in the army, Sherlock." 

"Hm." Sherlock leaned back against the headboard. "Just so you know, I wasn't joking this morning when I said I was relying on you to take the lead."

"I know."

"Don't take that to mean that I have no sexual experience. Because I do."

John blinked at him, nearly speechless. "Er, okay."

"It was a very long time ago, and I generally didn't enjoy myself, largely because I couldn't stand any of my partners. So I stopped. But now, well.... It's my understanding that it can be quite enjoyable, with the right person."

"Yes, it can be."

"Then show me."

John did.

They lingered together for hours, until they were interrupted by a knock on the door late in the afternoon. John was close enough to see a spark of panic register in Sherlock's eyes. "Don't worry, it's not the girls." He slipped out of bed, grabbing and throwing on Sherlock's dressing gown as he went to answer the door.

When he returned, Sherlock sat up, pulling the sheet with him, although there was no need to cover himself now that they were alone again. "What is that?" He nodded at the garment bag John was holding.

"You mean you can't deduce it?" 

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "It's obviously a jacket that you ordered and had delivered from one of the shops in Disney Springs, but that makes no sense."

"Why not?" John unzipped the bag to reveal its contents: a dark blue jacket, nothing particularly fancy, but well-made and more than adequate considering that he'd purchased it sight unseen.

"Because there's only one restaurant here that requires a jacket for dinner."

"And yet you can't make that final deductive leap." John laid the jacket on the end of the bed and shrugged out of Sherlock's dressing gown so he could try it on.

"There's no way you could have managed a reservation at Victoria & Albert's," Sherlock said. 

John grinned. "But I did."

"How? It's a five-star restaurant. There are only 18 tables in the main dining room. It needs to be booked six months in advance." 

"Or, if you call precisely at noon, you might get lucky and snag a reservation for that evening that someone failed to confirm." He raised his eyebrows and picked up the jacket to inspect it more closely. 

Sherlock grinned at him. "And you got lucky."

"Of course I did." 

"And you're willing to spend that much for a meal?"

"It should be worth it, don't you think? Five-star dining. Besides, you still have Mycroft's card if we need it."

Sherlock laughed and kicked back the sheet so he could slide out of bed, padding a few steps across the room to where John stood. "I'd say you should put on a shirt so you can see if the jacket fits correctly, but—" He pulled the jacket out of John's hand and tossed it back toward the bed. "We've still got plenty of time before we need to be dressed."

Later on, when they were both dressed and ready, John stood at the mirror, adjusting the fall of the jacket to make sure it really did fit. Sherlock stepped up behind him, running his hands over John's shoulders and down his arms. "Looks good," he said. "Almost perfect."

"Almost?"

"Just needs one more thing." Sherlock darted across the room, then came back, holding in his hands the two buttons they'd been wearing this morning. 

John grinned and took one from him, opening the clasp so he could attach it to his lapel. He smiled at their reflections in the mirror. Yes, perfect: they were going to live happily ever after, just the way they were always meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, I hope you'll check out some of my other works. I have a few other parentlock works you can find [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Bfreeform_ids%5D%5B%5D=909842&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&commit=Sort+and+Filter&user_id=MissDavis). Or try my own personal favorite fic I've written, [Breakable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522717/chapters/5605520), which is angsty hurt/comfort that is pretty much the opposite of this story.
> 
> Thank you once again to PipMer for all your help with this fic!
> 
> If anyone wants to subscribe to me as an author, my next project is going to be some porny porn for my winning Fandom Trumps Hate bidder. :) After that, who knows?
> 
> And come follow me on Tumblr: [ MissDavisWrites](http://missdaviswrites.tumblr.com/). (Also the same user name on Twitter though I don't post there as much.)


End file.
